All For Naught
by SummerVisual
Summary: "I've never stared the devil in the face before, but seeing this shred of a man with no humanity showing through his soulless eyes, I can now say that I have...and it's terrifying." (A Dramione Story)
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Her screaming was loud enough to wake the dead. And, I could hear it all the way from my room on the second floor.

It had been less than a week since my Aunt 'so gallantly' captured one of Potter's followers. I hadn't even been allowed to go down and see who the prisoner was, but I can tell from the screams that it's a female.

 _Or a very feminine man.._

I snickered to myself at the thought then felt a twang of guilt. Another persons pain isn't anything to laugh at, even if the mark on my arm claims I feel otherwise.

My Aunt Bellatrix really knows how to torture someone, I'll give her that much. The rest of her qualities are less than desired. I briefly remember her when she first arrived back at the Malfoy Manor, after Voldemort freed her from Azkaban. She had been deranged then, but it's like all sanity she had left has been pulled from her person. She doesn't see reason or logic anymore; she tortures because she finds humor in it. If she was dangerous before, I'd hate to think of what she's considered now.

"Son, come downstairs. The Dark Lord has a favor to ask of you." My father's voice echos around the room and I hear the pain in it. He had been 'reprimanded' for his actions not even a week prior, and his wounds were still healing. He limps when he walks, and he has several broken ribs, but Voldemort would kill him if he didn't resume with his regular Death Eater duties.

Usually I'm not welcome at the meetings, as a further way to show how disgraced the Malfoy family has become. It's to be an example that my mother and I are distrusted by the Dark Lord; it's to be a beacon of how far others can fall out of favor with him.

I stand from my bed and make for the door. I take one last look around the room out of habit. The fireplace in the corner has been extinguished, the bed at the far end has its linens neatly fixed, the dark green and bright silver visible even in a room this darkly lit. My bathroom door to the right of the room is shut and the dark wood of the floor was polished by the house elves only hours earlier. The dark grey walls blink back in an all to familiar manner, and the dark green stencil of the Malfoy family crest that once looked proud, now look back diminished and with a worthless twinkle.

I close the door and head down to the dining room. Voldemort doesn't stay here with us, but he has his meetings here and drops in randomly to further diminish my father's spirit. It works; when the Dark Lord isn't in our home, I don't see my father. He used to hide out in his and my mothers bedroom, but now he stays in the spare room near the kitchens on the first floor. His wounds keep him from going up the stairs. My mother stayed with him for the first few days and assisted the house elves in caring for him, but his constant self loathing made her grow more and more defeated. They barely spoke before, now communication between them is non existent.

I reach the dining room and see the usual suspects sitting around it, minus Snape. Voldemort killed him using Nagini when we were all battling at Hogwarts. It was supposed to be the last stand. Halfway through I started fighting on Potter's side. I would be dead now if I hadn't killed the only witnesses to this. Unfortunately, after Potter came back to life in that big oaf's arms and my family and I left thinking it was over, everyone saw that. My father managed to convince Voldemort that he made my mother and I follow him via the Imperius Curse. He claimed he remained loyal to the Dark Lord, but in that moment panicked and thought only of saving his family. Thankfully for my mother and I, Voldemort believed him. Unfortunately for my father, Voldemort believed him. This is why he was reprimanded for his actions.

I passed the faces of several Death Eaters before finding the open seat intended for me. All of them looked disheveled, and all of them stared at their plates, not daring to look at me. The Dark Lord didn't bother looking up from the Daily Prophet in his hand as I walked in, either.

From what I was told by a few of the Death Eaters that stuck around to fight, Voldemort was angry and dueled with Potter for a while. But, when Nagini was killed by Longbottom, he collapsed to the ground. Auntie Bella disapperated with him out of there and to his main hideaway. He was angry at first, but realized it was for the best. Since then everything's been getting worse for Potter and his band of misfits.

Their main goal is to attack and kill Voldemort and arrest the rest of us. Because of this, the Death Eater count has doubled, by force or by using the Forbidden Curses. They rule the streets of most cities, mainly for two reasons:

Either the people in those cities are afraid to become like the people under mind control, or they don't want to kill their family members. This plus the small battles taking place all over, is leaving Potter's forces dwindling. We haven't heard from them in a while, so I'm suspecting this meeting is about them in some way. Whether it be that we are attacking them first this time, or the less probable, that they've surrendered, I don't know. Quite frankly, I don't care.

"Ah, glad you could join us. I have a job for you _Draco._ "

* * *

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	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The sound of my name on his lips sends shivers down my spine and makes me want to vomit.

I stare at the empty plate in front of me, my eyes burning in my skull.

"Look at me boy." Voldemort said coolly. "So I know you're listening."

I tentatively lift my eyes from the ornate plate and meet his. They're red like blood and I can feel my heartbeat pick up its pace. I've never stared the devil in the face before, but seeing this shred of a man with no humanity showing through his soulless eyes, I can now say that I have..and it's terrifying.

"That's a boy." The slit that is his mouth widens and his face becomes more twisted and horrible than I ever thought possible. His terrible eyes burn through me, and the Daily Prophet he had been previously reading was set neatly aside before I had even glanced up from my plate.

"Now listen, _Draco_ ," it's like he says it like that on purpose! "I have business elsewhere this upcoming week. The rest of my followers will be joining me, including your mother and father." His eyes fall on my father, and even though the blonde hair covers his face, I can see the pain written in it's pores.

"You will be left here to take care of the prisoner downstairs. She's of importance to the Potter boy, and therefore knows a good deal. So far she has not been answering all of my questions." Although he says it as calmly as he possibly can, there's an air of anger loosely hanging on his words.

"Now, Bellatrix will be popping in from time to time to check on your progress, as I don't know how long this business will take. But, if all goes well and you get me the information I ask for, your family will be rewarded." I see my father lift his head slightly. I know he wants me to say yes, and I know I have no choice but to comply with the Dark Lord's request. But, every fiber of my being is screaming no.

I don't want to torture someone. I don't care for Potter and his band of muggle lovers, but I also don't care for the Dark Lord and his regime any longer. All I want is for my family to be left out of this; all I want is for us to be safe and away from this catastrophe of a life.

"So, what say you, young Malfoy?" I repress a chuckle.

 _As if I honestly have a choice in the matter!_

"Of course. Whatever your wish is my Lord." The horrendous grin returns to his face and he claps his hands, making the rest of the room jump.

"Wonderful! I'm glad you're on board. Now, I don't care how you get the information from her, _Draco_. And, I know you aren't very skilled in such...arts. That's the other reason Bellatrix will be stopping in every so often." My Aunt let out a shriek of a giggle from the other end of the table and the smile on Voldemort's face turned to something more of a grimace. The smile never left his voice though.

"She will train you, and the prisoner will be a dummy of sorts." He stood and motioned for myself and Bellatrix to do the same. We obeyed.

"Take him to her, and on your way tell the house elves to bring the food. I'm getting peckish." He waved a hand at Bellatrix and went over to the rolling liquor cabinet behind my fathers seat. I know he was going to find the most expensive bottle, open it, drink from it, deem it cheap and distasteful and then smash the remainder of the bottle against the wall. He did it every meeting, and it was only to further mock my fathers fall from grace. I wanted to leave before that happened. Auntie Bella seemed to want to leave too, not because she wanted to avoid the humiliation she all too often seems to be exempt from, but because she was genuinely excited to torture the poor girl in the dungeon of my home.

The thought of her being so joyous about such a horrible act makes me frustrated and nauseous. I'm embarrassed, as well, to call this scum apart of my family. But, when she beckons for me to follow her I listen and she begins skipping in a frightening manner.

She skips down the hall, passed the staircases and the front doors and through to the foyer. She stops and flicks her wand at the far side of the room where the blank stone wall looks normal. At her wordless spell, the wall begins to move and she looks back at me with a twisted smile.

"Come along, wee Draco, a special friend awaits us!" She sauntered into the dark hole that had opened where the wall once stood. As she passed certain stairs, torches lit to light her way slightly. I followed hesitantly.

I had hit me suddenly that I was afraid of who I might find down there. It's not like I had knowledge of all of Potter's followers, but I knew the majority I went to school with. What if I knew the girl that's been living floors under me all of this time?

My footsteps were muffled, but the chains at the end of this stairway clanged louder with each torch that lit. The chains that held some poor Potter supporter captive; some innocent who I'm going to have to torture. I stumbled at the thought and almost crashed into the psychotic witch in front of me. If I had, or she had noticed my clumsiness, she might have hexed me. That's just the type of crazy she's gotten lost in.

Luckily, she didn't notice and we made it to the end of the staircase. The middle of the room is pitch black. The only light that can be seen comes from the staircase behind us.

I know from being down here numerous times when the room was unoccupied, that the chains I was hearing from the stair case are attached the floor in the middle of the room. The witch that Voldemort had captured from Potter's party would be secured to them via her wrists and feet. I'd never seen the chains in use before, and I never wanted to.

Bellatrix walked a bit farther into the room so that she was silhouetted against the light from the staircase and she motioned to me to join her.

"Come Draco," she cooed, "come meet our guest." Her words slurred through the air, though I'm quite sure she hadn't touched alcohol all night. She threw her arm in the air and cried out:

"Lumos!"

My jaw hit the floor, and I couldn't help but feel my heart drop to my stomach.

" _Granger_."

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	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

I say her name in more of a whisper, but her face still looked up at me as though she had heard me as clear as a bell.

She's on her knees on the floor, her chains laying limp. Underneath her bushy, brown hair I notice the bruises on her face and arms. She had bleeding cut above her right eye, a healing wound on her lip and clumps of dry blood matting down her hair in odd places. Her clothes were filthy and torn into rags. Remarkably though, when her eyes met mine there wasn't a look of pleading in them. There were no signs of her begging for help or for mercy. She didn't seem afraid or as though her spirit had been broken. If anything, her eyes gleamed nothing less than defiance and determination.

She had been here less than a week, true, but I've heard the screams day and night since she got here. They had been torturing her for information non-stop, and it looked like they hadn't even fed her. For any other person, this would have driven them insane. But Hermione sat there, seemingly as strong as ever. I could see why Voldemort was aggravated with her, and probably so with my Aunt.

Torture is supposed to be Bellatrix's specialty; if she can't bully information out of a witch half of her age, how could she be trusted to retrieve information from anyone else? As frustrating as it was for the Dark Lord to not have the information he desired, it's probably just as upsetting to Auntie Bella to not be able to give that information to him. This alone makes me want to laugh, but I realize why I shouldn't, and it hurts me more than I expect.

Because Hermione is being so strong willed, Bellatrix will only try harder. It's not her intent to kill, as that would be a direct violation of her master, but if Hermione doesn't give in I feel her death is inevitable. I don't know why this realization claws at my heart so badly, but it does.

" _Crucio!_ " Bellatrix bellows and Hermione's body wrenches backwards before letting an earsplitting scream escape her lips. She falls to the floor and convulses before Bellatrix finally lowers her wand.

"And that, my little nephew, is how it's done. Give it a try.." She steps aside and extends her non-wand arm out towards the girl who's body is still pressed to the floor. Hermione pants heavily and I search for a reason, any reason, to not do this to her.

"Maybe we should let her sit a moment. Too much at once could drive her mad, then she would be no use to the Dark Lord." I try to play it off nonchalantly, but my Aunt just becomes more hostile.

"Are you implying that I don't know what I'm doing?" Her head tilts and her eyes bulge.

"No, I'm not saying that at all! I just don't think-"

"No, you don't think! That's the problem with your father too. Maybe if he had thought more, his ribs wouldn't be shattered!" I hide a flinch at her words and try to compose myself to speak without faltering, but I can't find the words to say.

I know if I don't do this, I will be considered just as insolent as my father. My task from the Dark Lord would already be branded as a failure, and there would be no way to hide myself or my family from his wrath. I can feel my moral compass battling with my mind's logic, and it's losing. As much as I don't want to torture this girl, my former classmate, I don't have a choice.

I slowly nod my head and the deranged witch squeals.

"That a boy, Draco!" She grabs my arm and pulls me closer to the chained girl. It hasn't been that long since I've seen Hermione. Maybe a month or two, give or take. But, I notice a change in her. A type of change you can only find in people who have seen too much, and who have been through hell. I'm sure I've got that look too.

Hermione picks her head up and begins to push herself back to her knees. I take out my wand, willing myself not to vomit, and it's as though I can hear my Aunt's mouth turn into a twist of a grin. She takes my arm and raises it.

"Now, Draco," she whispered in my ear and I could feel bile making its way up, "you're going to flick it this way, then that." She moved my arm to the left in a swishing motion. Then her long fingers guided my wrist in a gentle, flicking arch to the right.

"Go ahead and practice it a moment." Her voice was eerily soft and if it weren't for the subject I was learning, she would have made a fine teacher. That fact alone is disturbing. But, I follow her instructions and I mess up three times on purpose as in an attempt to prolong the inevitable. Bellatrix remained calm and fixed my mistakes in a nurturing fashion. I've never felt more uncomfortable and disgusted in my life.

I practice a few more times, trying my hardest not to make eye contact with the bushy haired girl in chains.

"I think you've got it, Draco. Now make your Lord proud." Bellatrix releases my arm and I let it hang in mid air. My wand points at the girls chest.

Bellatrix takes her attention off of me for a moment and asks Hermione where Potter and his followers are hiding. The girl says nothing and I look to my Aunt in time to see the smile fade from her face. She looks at me and her lips curl.

"Do it, Draco." I hesitate and she repeats herself with more volume. "Do it, Draco!"

I turn my face back to Hermione's and mouth the words 'I'm sorry.'

" _Crucio!_ "

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	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Her head flies back and she emits a scream, while the deranged witch behind me claps and squeals in delight.

The bushy haired girls convulses and I quickly lower my wand. Thankfully, my Aunt doesn't notice how green I've become as she awkwardly embraces my side and tells me how wonderfully I've done.

"I will tell the Dark Lord that you're already preforming admirably! We will be leaving in an hour, after dinner is finished. I've made a list of questions to ask the mudblood." She lets go of me and gives a disgruntled look to Hermione. The girl is groaning on the floor and panting again, so I doubt she's noticed the word she was just called. "I'll see to it that it makes it's way to your room. Now come along, we're done here tonight." She turns on her heel and makes for the stairs, and I begin to follow her. When Hermione's chains start to clang as she attempts to pick herself back up, Bellatrix stops in her tracks, a look of pondering crosses her face, but she quickly replaces it with a sneer.

She quickly turned around and walked back to Hermione, almost colliding with me in the process. She halted in front of the young witch who looked up at her with nothing less than exhaustion and anger painting her face. Bellatrix smiles wider, makes a coughing sound and then spits.

She laughs as her saliva lands on Hermione's cheek and begins to slide it's way down. Hermione tries to lift her arm high enough to wipe her face, but the chains prevent her from doing this.

"Filthy mudblood." Bellatrix mutters. Satisfied with herself, she turns and walks past me and back up the stairs. This time I don't follow right away. I just stand there, taking in the poor girl who I just had a hand in torturing. Hermione looks at me, then thinks better of it and turns her face to the side. Her bushy hair covering her expression.

She doesn't deserve this..

"Draco, come now. We've much to discuss before I leave." The sing song voice of my Aunt drifts down to me, and I can help but notice her words dripping with pride.

I reluctantly do as I'm told and as my feet hit the third step, I begin to hear the sobbing. It takes me off guard; I've never truly heard a girl cry before. Yes, I've heard others Voldemort's tortured from my room and from when he would suspend them in the air above the dining room table. But they weren't crying like this; they weren't sobbing. They were begging for their lives, they were afraid and screaming as the tears flew from their eyes.

No, what Hermione was doing was filled with emotional pain and embarrassment. And what's worse is I helped make her feel this. I was a factor in her distress; I helped make her breakdown and cry. I know this would make any normal Death Eater do a small victory dance, or brag to the others. But, it just makes me feel like scum.

I reach the top of the stairs and Bellatrix is waiting for me.

"Admiring my handiwork? It just came to me!" She laughs a wicked little laugh and I force a smile and a nod. She then begins to explain, in detail, how I should proceed with torturing Hermione for however long she won't be there. When she finished, we were outside the Manor in the main courtyard. The rest of the Death Eaters had already gathered here and they were getting ready to apparate to the next location.

"At least, that's what I would do. Don't worry though, I'm sure you'll do fine." She pulled out her wand and looked at me with a more serious demeanor. "I will send word when I will be stopping by for our next practice session. Don't forget the list of questions." I nod and she skips to join her peers.

I say my goodbyes to my parents and then watch as everyone disapparates from the property. It's then I feel just how sick to my stomach the conversation with my Aunt had made me. I have the overwhelming desire to sink to my knees right there, but I manage to stumble my way back into the house.

I call for a house elf before taking out my wand and apparating up to my room, knowing I won't be able to make it up the stairs alone. I instruct the elf to fetch a bucket of water and a washing cloth for me for when I wake up later. The elf nods in understanding before leaving me alone in front of my bedroom door. Finding the knob and turning it, I step inside my large room and strip myself of all clothing. I flop face first onto my bed and drift off into an uncomfortable sleep.

* * *

When I wake next it's due to the chimes of the grandfather clock in the hall hitting midnight.

I roll over and cover my head with the pillow before the happenings of the day come flooding back to me. I sit up quickly remembering what I had decided to do once the Death Eaters had left. I was too overcome by what my horrid Aunt had described that I had completely forgotten about it.

I made my way out of bed and to my dresser. I open the third drawer and grab a pair of pajama pants and put them on, that's when I notice the slip of paper sitting on the top of the dresser. I grab it and quickly skim the papers contents, knowing full well this was the list of questions Bellatrix had left for me.

There were only a few sentences on the paper, all of them concerning Potter's location, where he planned to attack next and exactly how many followers they had now. I pocketed the note inside my pajama bottoms and made for my slippers near the door. I made ready to leave when I doubled back and grabbed a throw pillow and extra blanket from my bed.

I threw the blanket over myself and left the bedroom, almost stumbling over the bucket of water and washing cloth I had asked for earlier. I pick them up, conceal them carefully under the blanket and begin my trek to the dungeons.

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	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

When I finally reach the solid wall where the hidden door to the dungeons lay, I stop.

I hesitate a moment; I need to search my soul to make sure I'm making the right decision. If I do what I plan on doing, and I get caught, my family will suffer, and I will surely be killed. But, I think about the poor woman downstairs. I think about how she has been tortured at the hands of my Aunt, and how she doesn't seem to quit fighting.

I straighten my shoulders and take out my wand from the pocket in my pajama pants and open the wall and begin down the stairway to the dungeon. If Hermione Granger can be this strong, there's no way the Malfoy family shouldn't be able to be so as well.

The wall alights with the flame of the torches as I pass, and I begin to hear movement from the chains at the bottom. I can't tell if that means she's awake, or just trying to be comfortable on the hard ground. I know the shackles don't allow for much movement, even though they somehow managed to let her be thrown to and fro horrifyingly through the air at the request of my Aunt's forbidden curses. The image of that will forever be burned into my mind, as well as Hermione's screaming leaving the same kind of marks on my cerebellum.

I pause and let a shiver roll down my spine before I enter the room where my childhood classmate turned prisoner now resides. I regain my composure and step off the staircase and onto the cold stone ground. Even in the dark of the room, I can make out the silhouette of a figure laying awkwardly on the floor. As I walk towards her, she doesn't move and I assume she's fallen asleep.

I reach the center of the room, just before Granger's shackles. I put down the bucket of water and wash cloth, and reach for my wand. I know that my mother put lanterns down here at one point to try and make the Manor a bit more delicate. I didn't light them when my Aunt first introduced me to our 'guest,' because I didn't want her to possibly take them down.

I flick my wand, and three lanterns spring to life. The candles inside popping due to being lit so infrequently. At the sound of this, Hermione stirs. She opens her eyes, sees me and immediately flings herself backwards. The chains catch, and she's jolted forward with a small gasp of pain. I hastily pocket my wand and walk.

"It's ok, it's alright; I'm not here to hurt you. I promise." I say it as warmly as possible, but it doesn't seem to dissuade the bushy haired girl from looking at me with hatred in her eyes. Seeing this in her sends a twang of hurt through me, for some reason.

I put down the bucket of water and washing cloth, the throw pillow and then take off the blanket I had wrapped around myself. I walk slowly towards her, her eyes never wavering. I reach her, and slowly adjust the blanket to now sit on her shoulders. I don't bother to tuck it in around her, although I want to. Something tells me if I tried that she would just throw the blanket back in my face. I return to the bucket after I am sure she won't remove the blanket from her shoulders.

I pull the bucket closer to the shackles cemented into the stone ground, and subsequently closer to the bushy haired girl. Her caramel colored eyes don't leave me or my movements. Their wary stare begins to make my face grow hot, and my hands fumble with the wash cloth.

"I'm not going to hurt you." I say as I move the soapy cloth towards her dirt, blood and spit slathered face.

"I'm not a child, or an animal. I've figured that out by now." Hermione's voice is hoarse, and her words leave a sting.

"Don't think that I still don't have that option, Granger." Her eyes narrow at me. "I don't have to be nice to you, I don't have to give a damn about you. But, I am, so the spite isn't appreciated." I finally make contact with her face and gently rub away some of the dirt. She moves back slightly.

"I apologize if being locked up in _your family's_ dungeon, in _your family's_ Manor being tortured by _your family_ , Malfoy, makes me a little snippy!" Her voice escalated to the point where she was almost screaming by the last of her sentence. I said a silent 'thank you' to the past Malfoy generations that had ensured that this dungeon was sound proof.

"You're right, and I apologize for my family and their loyalties, but know from now on that they are not mine." I remain calm, and I reach for her face again. Her dirty hand reaches as high as it can go while in its shackles and clasps onto my arm.

"And I apologize for not completely believing you." She releases my arm, and lets me continue cleaning her face.

I wipe her face with the lavender smelling soapy wash cloth until the water in the bucket turns a murky brown. At this point, I'm able to analyze the cuts on her face, and the bruises that I saw but couldn't comprehend fully; without the filth covering her features, I'm able to see the severity of her wounds. What I thought were just random, small bruises speckled across her face is actually one large bruise covering the majority of her face. The sight of it, and knowing that it was my Aunt, my blood, that inflicted it disgusts me. Most of the cuts on her face have healed, and the ones that haven't are so small that cleaning them should be the only thing needed to keep them from getting infected.

Putting the washing cloth back into the bucket for the last time, I stand and feel the joints in my legs for the first time in what seems like hours, even though I know it only took 20 minutes, tops, for me to clean the young witch's face. I pick up the throw pillow and put it down within reaching distance of her, then pick up the bucket of dirty water and the washing cloth and I make for the staircase. I turn before ascending, and take a final look at the witch chained to the dungeon floor. She looks back at me, her gaze flicking up and down my frame. When she reaches my abdomen, her eyes stop and widen before hastily darting away. The look is brief, but long enough for me to notice. I put on a smirk, and tighten my muscles.

"You may not think I mean what I say, Granger, but I do." She stares at the corner, and my smirk begins to fade. "I hope, over time, you'll realize I'm not like the other Death Eaters. I'm not one of them, not really." She still doesn't look at me, so I take it as my queue to leave for the night.

I make it halfway up the stairs before I whisper the thought that had flooded my mind, hoping it would sate the waves and rid it from my thoughts.

"I really do care, Hermione."

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	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

After I left Hermione last night, I was wrought, and still am, with various emotions.

I left the dungeon, closed up the wall and called for a house elf. When he showed, I requested in the morning that he and two other elves clean Granger thoroughly, bring her fresh clothes and hot food. I made note to make sure they knew to not let her escape, and obviously to keep this a permanent secret from my parents and the rest of the Death Eaters.

I was angry, and part of me still is, that Granger accused me of being like them. I know I have no real grounds to be this upset about it, because at one point what she said was true.

I am no better than the rest of those Death Eaters, in all honesty. I have killed innocents when ordered by the Dark Lord and I have tortured on his behalf. Seeing someone from my childhood locked in my family's dungeon, being treated the same way I have treated other innocents whose faces I didn't know..it made something inside of me snap. I know that if I get caught doing what I'm doing, helping the "enemy," not only will Hermione surely lose her life, I'll lose mine and my family will lose theirs as well. Even if all I'm providing is a bath, clean clothes and warm food.

And, I know that these things won't even begin to make up for the horrible things I've done and have bared witness to, but it's something. And yes, maybe I am being selfish. Maybe I am trying to lessen my guilt to make up for or even forget those said horrible things. But, a part of me doesn't believe that to be the whole truth. Part of me feels an oddly strong protectiveness over the bushy haired girl in the dungeon. And, possibly that same part of me, feels a deep hurt that she thinks so little of me. I don't blame her, of course, but it still stings.

In my room, I sit on the edge of my bed. Sleep didn't come easily last night due to the fear of being caught, the memories of what I've done and the overwhelming anger that came along with knowing all I can do to make up for it is clean and feed my family's prisoner. Not to mention that twang of pain I felt whenever I thought about what Granger had said to me.

I stand sleepily and walk towards the bathroom. I turn on the water in the great black shower and wait for it to warm. I strip off the pajama pants I wore to bed last night and quickly brush my teeth before stepping into the warmth of the water.

It takes about an hour to fully clean myself. This is due to me constantly drifting to sleep beneath the clear waves streaming out of the shower head. I somehow force myself to wake long enough to dress and then give my breakfast order to a house elf.

Making my way to the dining room, I glance at the wall that becomes the gateway to the dungeon. I think for a moment of eating with the girl that's chained down there, but quickly come to my senses. She wouldn't want me down there right now, much less want me eating with her on that cold stone floor. She has too much pride to let anybody see her like that. No, I will eat my meal without her and she hers without me.

I sit at the far end of the table and wait for my food. One of the smaller elves brings me a copy of the Daily Prophet and I unroll it to reveal the front page. Right on top is a picture of Potter, Weasley and Granger. I would have ignored the whole thing, including the the caption that read something along the lines of "Hermione Granger still missing," if it weren't for the smaller article right below it. To be specific, the names of the dead and the one name in particular..My eyes grew wide, and my pulse quickened.

An elf brought in a plate filled with toast, bacon and eggs but I'm halfway to the door before he sets it down on the table. The paper in my hand, I walk as fast as I can to the wall in the living room and struggle to un-pocket my wand. I get the code wrong twice before I finally steady my hand and tap out the correct rhythm.

I hear my feet slapping against the steps, but I don't feel the two touching. My stomach is churning by the time I reach the bottom and I flick my wand a little too harshly to light up the room.

Hermione sits on the floor, a plate of toast and eggs sits in front of her, and a house elf stops the fork she was lifting to the girl's mouth. Upon seeing me, Hermione's mouth opens in a question. Her bruises are now more evident since receiving that bath. The shades of purple and yellow that color her face and arms freezes me for a moment and makes me just stare blankly at the pain made real on her body.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" It wasn't snotty, the tone wasn't even a rude one. It was an actual question marked with concern.

"I-I...I am so sorry." Is all that I can get out before tossing the Daily Prophet her way. It lands with the cover facing up, and I watch as Granger's eyes scan the page until they come to rest on the deaths.

A scream escapes her lips before the tears begin to roll down her cheeks. My heart shudders at the sound, and the name echos in my mind as if she were reading it aloud.

 _Luna Lovegood..._

* * *

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	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

I awaited the scream of rage, the tortured cry to come from the bottom of her soul and burst into real life through her mouth...but it didn't.

I didn't notice that I closed my eyes waiting for all of her emotions to breath to life. Opening them though, I quickly wish I hadn't; Hermione is staring at the page, mouth open and tears pouring down her face. Words seem to have become too complicated for her and the pure sadness that paints her delicate, bruised features, makes an ache leap to my chest.

I act out of instinct and step towards her, and then realize what I'm doing. She didn't notice my movement, luckily, but I know if she had she would probably miraculously find that voice of hers and attempt to wandlessly hex me. I take my stride backwards, whisper another apology and, for lack of brain function, retreat back up the stairs.

Once the wall closes behind me, I regret my actions. I know to her I must have looked one of two ways: either a tosser who threw a newspaper with her dead friend's name plastered across the front of it in plain calloused indifference, or like a heartless Death Eater who just wanted to watch her pain in real time. Or possibly even a mixture of both.

In either aspect, it's not the light I want to be portrayed in because the actions I just exhibited are not a true reflection of my personality. I have no idea why my first instinct was to leave. I don't know why seeing her in so much emotional pain, while I've witnessed others in significantly more physical pain, was so devastating to me that I couldn't think straight. I'm still trying to get my thoughts in order.

Why am I so bloody panicky lately?

Like the damn bird read my mind, the gorgeous eagle owl my family owns lands on his perch outside of the large bay window that shows off the front garden. A fringed piece of parchment is grasped in his claw, and the pressure in my head threatens to explode.

I walk to the front door and out to the garden. In the winter months we have a coup that all of our owls can keep warm in. The letters usually come down through a small drain like tube in the kitchen area and from there the house elves distribute them to the correct person.

I lightly scratch the top of the birds head and he replies by letting the parchment fall into my hand.

"Good boy, I'll get you your treat later. Promise." With a discontented "hoot," the large eagle owl takes off. He makes sure to brush my cheek with his wings as he passes, and I rethink giving the greedy thing anything.

The parchment moves in my hand as the wind picks up, and I decide the best place to open it is in the den. My father began keeping the extra expensive fire whiskey in the den when it became apparent that the Dark Lord would just waste it all against a wall.

Thanking the foresight of my father, I make my way back into the Manor, down the hall and down four stone steps. The carpet in here is a dark shade of green to offset the light grey walls, and the air has the distinct smell of cigars. I take to the large oak desk in the center back of the room, neatly placed so that the love-seat and two reclining chairs faced it. As I sit, I pull out the middle drawer and take out a large bottle covered in dust and a crystal whiskey glass.

After pouring myself a healthy portion of the bottle, taking a large sip, and then pouring more, I neatly unfold the parchment. The message was short but it's meaning was concise:

 _Draco,_

 _Still on the hunt for the Potter boy. Will be stopping by next week to check on your.._ progress _._

 _Until then, send word on what you've been implementing and how well it's working. We will correct it when I arrive._

 _-Aunty Bella_

 _Also, did you see the paper today? My handiwork. The Dark Lord was very pleased!_

I down the rest of my glass' contents and begin writing a note back.

I inform her that I showed Granger the paper, making sure to use the word 'mudblood' at least three times, and that the girl was beside herself with grief. I also write that things are moving slowly, but they are improving by the day. It's a lie, but it's a realistic lie. Will it make the Dark Lord angry? Yes. Angry enough to kill my family and myself? Probably not.

In all honesty, Voldemort probably anticipated that I would have a tough time at first. If anything, it will make him a twisted sort of satisfied to know that he was 'right' about my inadequacies.

I finish the letter and give it to a house elf with instructions to tie it to an owl and send it on it's way to Bellatrix. Voldemort would find out either way, but hopefully it will sound less disappointing coming from her. And maybe Aunty Bella would even lie a little herself to make her teaching techniques look good.

I pour myself another glass of the fire whiskey and decide to grab the second glass out of the drawer. I balance the three items and make my way back to the dungeon. By this point, the whiskey is hitting me and I'm feeling less and less burdened, but I hit the bottom stair and notice that in the hour that it had taken for me to deliver the paper to her, read my Aunt's letter and find a way to make my reply look realistic and long enough to convince her believe I was proud of her for taking out the Lovegood girl, Hermione had not moved a muscle.

A small amount of my anxiety returned and I second guessed myself yet again. The drink helps me push through and do what I came down here to do.

I stride across the floor, put down the empty glass, my full one and then uncork the whiskey bottle. I pour out a large amount of the brown liquid and as I move her glass forward, I move the paper backwards so that it's no longer in her line of sight. This was enough to wake her from her worrying state, but she still doesn't say anything, but a question forms on her face. It startles me that I know what it is she wants to ask, but I answer it without hesitation:

"No, I didn't know, and I don't know how it happened." She nods her head, as if this was an acceptable response. Whether or not she believes me, I don't know, but I have very little time to worry about that as she takes the glass and tries to bring it to her lips, but can't quite reach it with the shackles.

 _Ah! Stupid!_

I quickly assist her with her glass and put it to her lips. She chugs almost all of it before motioning for me to take the glass away. After I do, I absentmindedly wipe away her tears with my thumb. I'm not quite sure why I did it, but I know that she didn't pull away. It takes only a moment for me to register what this girl needs, but I hesitate.

 _What's the worse she can do? She can't hit my face, the shackles won't let her hands go up that far!_

With that thought in mind, and the whiskey warming my body, I go for it. I embrace Hermione Granger in a hug, but the most surprising thing?

She hugs me back.

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	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

In this hug, I feel several things: awkward, sympathetic and overwhelmed being only a few.

The chains that bind her make this embrace somewhat painful, and I think for a moment about releasing her from them, but I know she would run. Add to the fact that the whiskey hasn't dulled a thing, especially emotions.

Even though I can't hear her, and she's hardly moving on my shoulder, I can feel her tears staining my shirt on my shoulder. I picture big, fat drops of liquid sliding down her pale cheeks and marking my clothing with such artistic sadness. I'm not a man who cries, but this, her anguish, it's pulling at me.

The whole situation is overwhelming, and I'm not sure she's completely noticed who she's embracing. And I'm hoping that if or when she does, she won't pull away. That feeling makes my head spin with questions that I can't answer.

 _Why don't I want this to end?_

 _Will she notice I'm the one hugging her?_

 _Has she already?_

 _Why isn't she pulling away_

 _Why do I care?!_

I act before I fully understand what my body is doing. Pushing Hermione away, I stand surprising even myself, and mumble some random words as I rush to the staircase. I fly up them without so much as a backwards glance at the quiet, weeping girl shackled in my dungeon and slam the door behind me seconds after reaching the top landing.

"Is Master Malfoy alright?" One of the house elves that was previously polishing the silver candle sticks my mother meticulously placed over the fireplace and is now giving me a worried look. I know I am sweating and the bags that had formed under my eyes days ago have only gotten larger; I know I look positively horrid and I can only imagine the sight this small elf is seeing now.

"I'm fine." I quickly slick back my hair and straighten myself as much as possible. I need to be alone and process why I reacted like I did.

"Just..just tend to the girl as you have been. Make her comfortable, bring her pillows or something..I need to be alone, don't disturb me unless there's an emergency." The elf nods and leaves the room. I turn to the bear wall behind me and try and picture the door that was just there.

 _What are you doing, Draco?_

* * *

After what seemed like a lifetime staring at that wall, I made it back up to my bedroom. I was no longer hungry, just exhausted.

My muscles ached and my eyes were sore; my body was craving sleep. As soon as my head hit the pillow my world went dark and I didn't have to think anymore. It was a false sense of bliss.

I jerk upwards to a sitting position and fling my arm to release the small grasp of tiny hands, a fleeting image of a bushy haired girl leaving my mind with the last remnants of sleep.

"Master, I is sorry, she has left!" Apparently those small hands belong to an elf that is now cowering in a corner.

"What?-What did you say?" Sleep is escaping me faster by the second as I fully comprehend what the small creature was saying to me. "How did she get out?!" I leap from the bed and start to throw on the shoes I had left by the door only hours earlier.

"You said make her comfortable, sir. She was more comfortable without shackles on..." It's almost a whisper, as if the creature knows that releasing the witch from her metal bonds was a stupid decision, but he hadn't completely understood that until now.

"Where did she go?!" I'm shouting, and the elf is obviously frightened, but he answers me quickly and with rushed breath.

"Out the front, sir."

And with that I am out the door and bounding down the stairs two steps at a time. Sweat starts on my brow as I reach the front door and wretch it open.

The sight of the bushy haired girl at the end of my driveway makes my heart palpate in an off rhythm. I instinctively take out my wand and as I point it in her direction, a black cloud descends in front of me.

Black boots form first, then the rest of her. Her wand is already out and pointing at the Granger girl.

"Crucio!" The spell leaves her lips and the witch at the end of the driveway crumples into a heap.

I almost let out a sort of strangled cry with her, but I don't. The shock of my Aunt Bellatrix swooping in and catching me in my mistake is enough to knock the wind out of me without her even touching me. There must have been some sort of spell on the mansion to alert the Dark Lord, or hopefully just Auntie Bella, if the girl ever managed to escape.

That twisted cackle that I've grown all too familiar with brings me out of it and I realize that the bitch is still pointing her wand at Hermione.

"Enough! She's unconscious! There's no point in continuing...at least for the moment." I reach for her wand and she lowers it instinctively.

"Oh, look at that, I guess she is. The question is now, Draco, why is she unconscious at the end of your driveway?"

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	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

She rounded on me, her eyes darkening even more so than I though possible.

"It's, well..you see." I flounder for a moment before finally comping up with an explanation worthy of this situation. It's a long shot that she would take it, but I have literally nothing else.

"I have been trying to implement a new type of torture," her eyes widen with a sick sort of pleasure as I continue,"I have been letting her free every few nights, then torturing her and returning her back to the dungeon to do it all over again. I feel it will give her a false sense of hope, and eventually it will beat her down enough so that she will eventually give up. I am hoping it will break her enough to release to me where Potter really is."

She stares at me for a moment, and I try to suppress the heat that is steadily rising to my face. Then, she smiles.

Her teeth are gritty as if they haven't been brushed in days, and her eyes are soul less.

"I never knew you had it in you, Draco..."Her scowl twists up and she looks me up and down. "I'm a proud Auntie." I try and bite back the bile as I smile back at her. I hope my face has contorted into something that looks similar to appreciation.

"Elf!" Her scream is startling, and one of my favorite house elves appears in a loud crack, Bellatrix wastes no time in giving him orders as if she was the one that lives here.

"Next time come faster!" She berated. "Take the dumb girl back to the basement and make sure she is shackled tightly before the next..run of hope." She raises an eyebrow and smirks as though indicating that if the witch's bonds aren't making her bleed, they aren't done right.

The elf nods and runs over to the crumpled heap of hair and bloodied cloth. The driveway is dimly lit by ground lights, but it gives enough clarity to see some more prevalent things; like my Aunt's black clouded form when she descended from the sky and Granger sprinting earlier, kicking up gravel in her wake. And now, it reveals to me how thin the young witch has become. I shame myself just a small bit more for not realizing this earlier when we embraced.

"Draco," the dark purr of Bellatrix's voice shrinks my thoughts instantly, "let's go inside, and you can get me some fire whiskey and you can tell me about the progress you've been making with this strategy of yours." Her hand brushes my bare shoulder before she passes me and strides through the open door. Before I follow, I look back at the elf struggling to comfortably hold the limp girl in his arms.

"Just, apparate to the basement. And, could you get me a shirt when you're done?" The elf nods, thankfully, and a large pop sounds before I am able to correct my Aunt's orders and make sure he does not tighten the shackles so that they bruise and tear her skin.

 _I will just have to fix it later..._

I turn on my heel and head towards the dining hall.

* * *

After what seemed like a century of making up answers for my Aunt's interrogation, she finally left. I am still unsure of how I convinced her to go without "checking on" Hermione, but I managed.

I take my time in making my way down to see Granger; I try to put on a facade, as if I don't care. As if seeing her unconscious at the end of my driveway didn't bother me. But, I can't, and the shirt the elf brought me earlier sticks to me as I finally begin the descent down the dungeon staircase.

My feet hit the stone floor and I light the room with my wand. There are three house elves attempting to comfort a now awake and crying Hermione. She doesn't sob, and she's not loud, but the river of tears coming from her eyes express a pain I can't comprehend. I don't know if that is what makes my heart ache, or if it was already sore and I am just now noticing.

"Meet me in my room." The house elves look up at me and only hesitate a moment before three little pops sound and they are gone.

I silently walk to the bushy haired girl and kneel down beside her. She does her best not to look at me, and even tries to move back, but I grab her shackles. She grimaces and lets out a small gasp of pain.

"What you did tonight was reckless for you and I both." My voice is strong, though the sweat soaked t-shirt I am wearing screams otherwise. "I do not do this lightly." I take my wand back out, and I feel a tug on the shackles. "Hold still." I mutter before using a spell on the part of her bonds that are bolted to the floor. The bolts release and I now have the chains in my hands.

I have to force her to her feet, and I walk two steps before having to tug on the bonds. Her small yelp of pain makes me angry.

"Stop being stubborn, and come." I sneer.

"I am not a dog!" Her voice is loud yet I can hear how weak her body has become through it. I take a deep breath to calm myself before speaking.

"I am aware of this, but you need to have some faith in me."

"I will have faith in you when I am no longer a prisoner in your dungeon, _Malfoy!_ " This last comment makes me roll my eyes.

"Then come with me, you incredulous witch." I give a small tug on her chains again, but this time after the sound of pain, she follows.

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	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Getting Hermione up the dungeon staircase and across the living room was a hassle.

The woman is stubborn beyond belief!

Just when I thought she was willing to have a little faith in me, she would stop walking. Which, in turn, would make me have to pull on her bleeding wrists to make her move again. It doesn't thrill me to cause her pain, in fact I hate it. But, right now it's the only way to get her to comply.

We come to the bottom of the staircase for the second floor, and I have already decided enough is enough. I pick up Hermione, much to her dismay, and begin to ascend the stairs.

She doesn't say much to me, she just huffs loudly and refuses to look me in the eyes. It's now that I actually pay attention to how her body feels in my arms; she's actually much thinner then I originally thought when I saw her hunched limply over that elf's shoulders in the driveway. That ache in my chests makes itself known again, and we reach the landing.

Her muscles tense as I approach my room. The door has been left open in my haste to stop her from escaping earlier, and I notice the sheets are a mess and there are random pieces of clothing all around.

"I apologize for the appearance of my room." I say and I notice that her muscles have not relaxed. I look at her face and see her eyes have become wide. I suddenly realize what she thinks I am intending.

"Oh, no, don't be gross Granger!" I try to express my disgust, but my sleep deprived mind makes the words come out sluggish and insincere sounding. I clear my throat and step inside the room. It's not until I close the door with my foot and turn back around do I spot the three house elves.

"Good." I say more to myself than anyone else in the room. I put Hermione down onto her feet, take out my wand and begin casting spells to make it impossible to leave the room without a counter spell. As I do this, the elves watch patiently while Hermione shifts uncomfortably. I'm not surprised my half hearted statement has not calmed her nerves, but I'm also slightly irritated that she thinks so little of me.

Once I finish the spells I begin to release her bonds and I let some of that annoyance slip into my words, "You know, Granger, I don't need to force anyone into my bed. Don't flatter yourself." I take the cuffs off a bit more forceful than necessary, and she makes a face.

I turn to the house elves and tell them to draw a bath and assist Hermione in washing, and to make sure she doesn't try to escape again. She glares at me as they guide her to the bathroom, and shut the door behind her.

As soon as I am sure she won't try to get out, I hastily begin to clean up- I even go as far as changing my sheets and comforter. It wasn't until the smallest elf popped her head out of the bathroom did I remember the other thing I had intended on doing.

"Master Malfoy, sir?" Her voice is timid, and I tuck in the last corner of the blanket before responding.

"Yes?"

"Would you like us to put the girl back into her clothes, or should we wash them first?"

"Oh, damn." As I curse the elf flinches. "Yes, uh just, wash her clothes. I will get her something for the time being." The creature nods and I rush out of the room, making sure it's secure before crossing the hall to my mother's bedroom.

I go to her closet and find the most comfortable looking nightgown I can. It's a cream colored cotton gown with long sleeves. It looks warm, and it feels soft. I briefly remember my mother wearing it once; the memory is fuzzy, but I know it wasn't a good one. So, I know she won't mind if the girl that was supposed to be a prisoner in our home wears it for one evening.

I shut the closet and then the door to her room behind me and cross the hall again. I re-secure my door and walk to the bathroom. Without thinking I open the door and just catch a glimpse of Hermione's bare side and thigh as she is being wrapped in a towel by small hands.

"I, ugh..ehem." I clear my throat and feel my face grow red. "Here." I hand the nightgown to one of the elves.

"Make sure you wrap her wrists before you put her in the gown. It's my mother's." I pause, looking at the girls wrists that are still bleeding. "Also, as soon as her clothes are clean, change her back into them." I shut the door and take a seat in front of the lit fire place.

It wasn't for another couple moments did it finally register with me that Granger's thigh and side were covered in bruises ranging from almost healed to the fresh ones she received today from my over exuberant Aunt. That's why she was taking her time walking up here; she's in pain, not stubborn...well not as stubborn as I thought.

The bathroom door opens and Hermione walks out with the three elves in tow. I gesture to the seat beside me, and she hesitantly limps to it. She sits and I ask the elves to bring up some chamomile tea with some breakfast for both of us as the sun is peaking in through the windows now. The elves leave and I momentarily contemplate closing the curtains.

"Why am I up here? What's your game, Malfoy?" Hermione asks, her hair still dripping and no where nearly as bushy as it usually is.

I sigh, "I thought you'd appreciate a bit of humanity. I told you, Granger, I'm not a monster." I stand. "Now, I'm going to take a shower, please don't try and leave again. I want another visit from my Aunt as much as you do." I cross the room, take off my shirt and throw it into the laundry bin. It's not until I retrieve a new towel from the side closet that Hermione was staring almost open mouthed at me.

I smirk as she finds I've caught her.

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	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

"Uh huh." Is all I say.

Her face flushes to the shade of a tomato as she stutters out a "Piss off, Malfoy," and I have to stop myself from laughing outright.

"Nothing to be ashamed of Granger." My smirk widens and I go into the bathroom, and shut the door. I take note of some blood on the floor that must have fallen from Hermione's wrists before the house elves had a chance to wrap them. So, I start the shower and clean up the blood while the water warms.

Once it does I disrobe the rest of me and take a timid step into the large globe like tub. I close the curtain, which is nothing more than a pale green water proof sheet, and I let the water wash over me.

It hasn't been long since I last showered, but it does feel like it's been forever since I've actually been able to enjoy the warm water cascading off of me. I can't remember the last time I've been close to this relaxed. Granted, my anxiety is still at an all time high but knowing that Auntie Bella won't be visiting for at least another week, and the fact that nobody died during this last visit, has reduced it significantly.

I breathe in deeply and take a moment to push one of the 12 buttons above the taps. Immediately a liquid with the scent of mint and eucalyptus erupts from the tub's tap as the shower's head keeps pushing out a steady stream of warm water. The liquid infuses with the air and with my next breath my muscles automatically relax and my airway opens more, allowing me to calm down further. I realize now how exhausted I am.

 _Maybe I'll actually be able to sleep now._

I give a harsh little laugh, knowing that probably won't happen. It probably won't happen ever again.

I wash my hair and the rest of me all while continuing to breathe in the relaxing aromas and trying to forget about all of what my life has become. I know I can't blame this all on my family; I am my own person. But, I feel the loyalty I have to my last name has faded over these past few years, and even more so over these last few months.

The water is getting cold.

I shut off the shower and the button that released the scented liquid, and I climb out of the tub. Grabbing the towel I brought in, I briefly panic; I thought I had left my wand in the other room with Granger. Luckily, it took me less than a second to spot it sticking out of the pocket in my pajama pants.

 _Damn, I forgot pants..._

Deciding I don't want to put on dirty pajama pants, I dry myself and then I wrap the towel around my waist and leave the bathroom.

Granger sits where I left her, only there is a plate of half eaten food and an empty cup of tea in front of her. She glances up at me, and then quickly looks away when she realizes I am in only a towel.

"For God's sake, Malfoy. Couldn't you have least had the common courtesy to put on pants?" Her face flushes and I can't help but feel she's only feigning her outrage.

"Well, one, I forgot to grab them on my way to the shower, and two, this is my house Granger. And you are technically not a guest. So, I will do as I please." I speak matter of factly and her face turns into a disgruntled frown.

I cross the room to my dresser and begin to rummage for comfortable sleep wear.

"How was the tea?" I ask nonchalantly.

"Fine." It was curt, and although I didn't expect an actual reply, her tone still irritated me.

"Good."

A pause, and then, "So, when do you plan to throw me back into your dungeon?"

I pull out a pair of black sweatpants and walk back to the bathroom door before I answer. Her tone this time was still a bit defensive, but I could also hear something else in it...

 _Fear? Loneliness?...Pain?_

"Would you like to go back down?" I ask earnestly.

"Don't be a prick. Of course I don't, but I'm not stupid. You just said it yourself that I'm no guest here; I am your prisoner. Someone for you to torture. Your precious Death Eater friends wouldn't like that I'm up here."

"I am very aware of just how smart you are, Granger. Don't doubt that." The small smirk I'd acquired disappears and I step towards the bruised witch. "And don't you ever call those bastards my friends."

My body is tense and I feel as though someone punched me in the mouth; I am so offended. Yes, there was once a time that I was proud to be a Death Eater. I was proud to serve the Dark Lord. But, I've grown from then, and I've learned so much about myself. I have learned so much about other people and their value past their social status. I recognize a look of confusion plant itself on Hermione's face, but I don't want to go into everything now. She wouldn't believe me anyway.

"You don't know everything about me, like I don't know everything about you. What I do know, however, is that I've been nothing but kind to you and you have been nothing but rude to me." As soon as I say it, I wish I hadn't.

"You've been _kind_ to me? Is that what you call keeping me in your family's dungeon? Is that what you call using the cruciatis curse on me?" She stands and inches towards me.

"I only did that once, and only because if I didn't we would both be dead right now! Everything I have done in the past few days is to keep you and I both alive!" We are closing the gap between us now. "You're right, what you've been going through is horrible, but I am doing my best. I am trying to be kind, I truly am. A little trust in me would be helpful for the both of us."

"Why should I trust you?" She almost spits it in my face and we are only inches from each other. I am suddenly very aware I am still in a towel, my sleeping clothes are on the floor somewhere behind me.

"I've already given you so many reasons to. And, though there's really no reason to, I will not stop giving you reasons." I take a deep breath, look her straight in the eyes and take one final step forward so that our chests are now touching.

"Without me, you will die. You're smart, Granger. Some part of you has to realize I am telling the truth."

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	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

The pools of chestnut brown that she calls eyes are enticing and pull me closer to her.

"I know I'm right on this. Do you understand?" I place my hands on her arms and she breathes out. Her breath is sweet, inviting, but I can't focus on that.

A few days ago, if I had been asked who is more important to me: my family or this bushy haired witch? I'd have said my family straight away...but now ...now everything is muddled. I don't know why, I don't particularly like it, and I really don't have the time nor the energy to figure it all out. Especially right now.

Hermione gives a begrudging nod, "Yes. I have noted some..things. And, I will agree to not make things worse." A small smirk plays on my face.

"But," she continues, "that does not mean that I trust you." She backs away, and I suddenly feel colder somehow, that small, confident smile gone.

"It simply means I will not make things worse for myself. Do _you_ understand that?" She squares her shoulders and I think I see her glance down for just a second at my bare chest.

"Fine." I back away and pick up my pants off of the floor. "I'm going to change, you can go to bed when you're ready." I motion to my queen sized bed with the fresh linens I just put on it, and her mouth falls open.

"I am _not_ sleeping in your bed, Malfoy!" Hermione bursts. "You're disgusting for even thinking so!"

"It's either that or you go back to the dungeon and sleep on the floor!" I'm too tired to continue arguing, and I will admit that I'm more than slightly frustrated that she still can't trust me.

 _She's been locked in your dungeon for almost two weeks! She has a right to be upset!_

My thoughts shout back at me, but the exhaustion of my body takes over and I ignore them.

I take leave to the bathroom behind me without a backward glance. I can feel Hermione's eyes shooting wordless daggers into the back of my head until I close the door behind me. When I hear the lock click behind me, I let my towel drop and maneuver my way into my sweat pants. When they're on I go to the sink, take a deep breath and examine my reflection.

My eyes have deep purple bags underneath them, and I'm paler than usual. The feather blonde hair I usually keep pristine is a wet, tangled mess. It's hard to imagine that only a few years ago Voldemort was only whispered about, and my family was whole...

 _I was whole..._

I rub my eyes and try to smooth back my hair with my hands. I was planning on staying on the couch while Hermione slept in the bed, but I guess I didn't make that clear enough.

 _I'll just tell her she can sleep there if she wants._

I don't feel comfortable bringing her back down to the dungeon and making her sleep shackled up...especially with all of her injuries. I stiffen at the thought of those horrible purple blotches ruining her almost perfect porcelain skin, and it takes me a moment to relax. I'm finally able to take a deep sigh and do a quick mental prep for the inevitable argument that lay ahead. I straighten up and turn to open the door. When I enter the room, however, I'm met with a surprising sight:

Hermione no longer sits in the chair, the plate of half eaten food is now clean, and the fire is almost out. I look to the door and even though it seems like it hasn't been opened. I almost make a dash for it, though, certain that the clever witch had found a way out. But, I'm stopped by a sound of rustling linen, and instead face the bed.

A Hermione sized lump lays almost completely in the middle, covered in blankets. I silently walk over, and am filled with a sort of delight in finding that she is fast asleep. I want to do a small dance at winning an argument against the 'brightest witch of our age,' but I resist the temptation, and instead find my way back to the chair she was sitting in earlier. My plate of food still sits there, untouched. I take a few bites and stare at the fire until my eyes close, and I'm transported into an effortless sleep.

It feels like only minutes, however, until I'm awoken by someone crying loudly. The night's events come flooding back and I'm on my feet with my wand in my hand before I'm completely aware of my surroundings. It's takes a moment, but I do eventually realize that the sobbing is coming from my bed.

"Hermione?" I say as I quickly reach the edge of the pillow top. "What happened?" with my senses relaxing, my body becomes tired with lack of sleep, and I slow my movements.

She cries with such force that I'm shocked that she is still in a deep sleep. I consider waking her, but when I put a hand on her shoulder, her sobs decrease slightly.

"You're going to hate me after this."

 _She already hates me..._

The voice whispers in my head, but I ignore it, and crawl into my bed, and curl my body around hers. She instantly quiets down, but instead of removing myself, I stay.

Having her here, next to me, sleeping so intently, it's comforting on a level I never knew existed. I stay out of selfishness, but holding her like this...it's addicting.

My breathing slows, and exhaustion finally takes over my body; so even if I wanted to move, I couldn't. I lay my head against her back, and I hear her heartbeat. It's this rhythm, this soft chorus of her life source that makes me finally nod off into the best dream I've ever had.

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	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Waking up in the morning took some time; I was too comfortable being wrapped in that tangle of bushy hair and the warm embrace of her cuddled against my body. At some part in the night she must have turned over and formed her frame up against mine, making her face become mere inches from mine. I won't lie; I don't mind it, but I know she would.

I slowly begin to untangle myself from her body, feeling a small chill on every part of me that's separated from her skin. I watch her a moment when I'm done. Sitting at the edge of the bed, I try and convince myself that doing this is to make sure that she doesn't go back into a fit like she had in her sleep last night. I _try_ to tell myself that I'm not just sitting here, admiring her and missing her touch. It works...for a moment, and then I stumble back into reality.

 _You can't have feelings for a girl who not only despises everything about you, but one that you may eventually have to kill..._

The last part of my thought's sinks in, and it's as though a large boulder is crushing my chest. I've always known that it's a possibility that at the end of all of this, whether I convince her to tell me what she knows or not, the dark Lord may have me just dispose of her. This is the first time, though, that I've actually let myself think of the possibility, and I wish I hadn't.

I wish I could not have even the slightest feelings for this bushy haired witch. I wish I could be someone else; every fiber screams a hatred of who I am, of my family name and of what I've become.

I had to be born a Malfoy, a pure blood whose family worships a psychopath. I've never hated my lineage as much as I did the day I saw Hermione in a crumpled heap on my family's dungeon floor, and I haven't stopped having animosity towards it.

 _Who even has a dungeon!?_

Suddenly anxious, I stand and make my way over to the chair I had originally intended on sleeping in last night. The house elves had been in since Hermione and I had gone to bed as the dirty dishes have been taken away. The fire in the fireplace had also been extinguished, and some of my clothes had been halfheartedly folded and placed on top of my laundry bin. I sigh and sit in the chair, trying to calm my mind.

I take out my wand and absentmindedly begin twirling it in my fingers; something I've seen my mother do on more than one occasion when she's particularly stressed or tired. I can't help but assume since I've been tasked with interrogating Hermione that she has been doing the action more and more frequently. I decide tonight to write to her and, begrudgingly, to my Aunt. I know if I don't write to her and my mother gets a letter Auntie Bella will assume that I am either not progressing well with the witch, or that I am progressing so well that I've already received information from Hermione and I am keeping it from the dark Lord. In any case not sending a note to my Aunt would warrant a visit from her, and Hermione still isn't completely recovered from the last one. I suddenly hear a sharp intake of breath and am I taken out of my own thoughts.

Hermione is sitting up in my bed, her hair in bushy curls that hang down past her shoulders. She's staring at me, well my wand, and it doesn't take me long to see why: while I was lost in thought and twirling my wand, it began to emit different colored smoke in an array of beautiful patterns. They weave in, and out, and around each other.

"That's- that's lovely...Malfoy." she speaks quietly and I am taken aback by the sweetness and sincerity that riddles her voice.

"Thanks." I say, a bit too loudly, and I quickly pocket my wand, making the smoke dissipate. When it does, it leaves a smell of lavender and coconut behind.

 _I know that smell..._

"I will call for your clothes, and you can dress in the bathroom. I'll change in here." I stand and snap my fingers. It's degrading, but that's what the elves in my family have been trained to respond to. I can tell Hermione doesn't appreciate it, but I don't feel like explaining myself over every little thing.

One of the larger elves appears this time, carrying Hermione's cleaned clothes in one hand and a covered dish in the other. I take both and mutter a 'thank you,' as he dissiparates. I set down the covered dish, throw her clothes to her and then go to my dresser and pick out dress pants and a white button down.

I walk over to the bed and place my clothes neatly on top of the comforter as Hermione stands with hers and walks to the bathroom. I don't turn around but I do wait until I hear the click of the lock before taking off my pajama bottoms and putting on my boxers. I pause for a minute after pulling my trousers up, however. For some reason the warmth and comfort of being snuggled up against Hermione last night fills my head, and I wonder if I should tell her that I didn't sleep in the chair last night, but instead I slept nestled in the thicket she calls her hair.

 _She may hit me._

The first thought to enter my mind, and I know it's true. And, I've been hit by Hermione before; it hurts.

 _Maybe I will just not tell her._

"If she needs my comfort like that again tonight, then I will tell her." I decide aloud.

 _If_ she _needs it...right._

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	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

I'm gone before Hermione leaves the bathroom.

I left a note on the coffee table for her explaining that I will be back by dinner and I leave the house elves with strict instructions to not let her leave the room, but give her all of the amenities she will need to be comfortable in it. I don't have many errands today, but I do have to schedule a meeting with someone important and if I get the chance to speak to them today, it will take up most of my time/ Not to mention the surprise meeting I now have with the anonymous someone who sent a house elf I'd never seen before to me just as Hermione closed the bathroom door. Particularly good timing on the elf's part, if I'm being honest.

The elf had given me an address and instructions on how to access the place and nothing else before disapparating back to wherever they had come from.

Trying to act as naturally as possible, and praying Bellatrix doesn't attempt a surprise visit today, I disapparate from the manor and reappear in Knockturn Alley. Once my feet hit the ground, I make haste in the direction of the shop I'm looking for.

The streets are all but bare, as per usual, but the atmosphere is strikingly different; yes it's usually a tad on the somber side but now it's as if pure evil emanates around the darkened shops and up and down the clumsily cobbled streets. It make's me more than uncomfortable; it makes me downright frightened.

I reach the corner, look on either side of me and then tap three times on a shabby looking wooden door with my wand. The door is on the side of a building with no windows and there isn't any street sign advertising that there's even a shop here. If one weren't paying attention, they could walk right by it without a second glance. It creaks open slightly, and an arm grabs me and pulls me inside.

"No one saw you, correct?" The sweet voice of my mother fills the small room illuminated only by a fireplace in the left hand corner.

"No, mother, there wasn't even anyone on the street when I knocked." It's hard to make out her face, but I can tell that it relaxed slightly. I'm then pulled into a hug, and I realize I had almost forgotten what my mother's embrace feels like. I hug back, squeezing almost too tightly.

"I'm so glad to see you, love. It seems as though it's been ages." She releases her hold and turns towards the fire. There's two large figures I barely make out to be arm chairs that are facing the fire directly. In the center of them is a small wooden table with a teapot sitting on it and two cups on either side. "Would you like some tea?" She asks making for the kettle.

"No thank you, mother. I can't stay long; it's a safety concern." She let's out a little sigh, pours herself some tea and takes a seat in the farthest arm chair. She motions for me to join her and I do so.

As I sit, the chair breathes out a sigh of dust. I look at my mother, seeing her for the first time in the firelight, and I have to hold my breath. Her face looks disheveled, her hair is slightly messy and she's sporting a black eye.

"Who did that to you?" I say, suddenly angry.

"Who do you think?" She replies calmly and takes a sip of her tea.

"Bellatrix." I mutter hotly and I put my face in my hands.

"Indeed." My mother agrees, and a degree of her calmness is gone. "She caught me trying to write a letter to you. She thought I would be distracting you from your duty to the Dark Lord and she took it upon herself to punish me for it." She puts down her tea cup a little harder than intended and I do my best not to stand from my seat, apparate to Bellatrix and 'punish' her for what she did to mother.

I had figured there was a reason I hadn't heard back from my mother via owl, and I'm glad she didn't give up on trying to make contact me, but this is a risk that if discovered, the punishment may be too high.

"She needs to be stopped; this all needs to be stopped." Is all I say instead.

"What do you mean?" My mother looks at me with concern.

"Mother, how did you get here today? You had to sneak out, correct?" I pause for a second, but continue before she can answer, "If you're caught sneaking back into whatever camp he has created, you could be killed! Father could be killed. You need to find a way to get out of there, with Father. You need to find safety elsewhere. Our family can't do this anymore; it's too dangerous and I know for a fact that at the very least the two of us don't agree with their tactics, or anything _he_ stands for anymore!" I say, standing and throwing my hands up into the air. "Please, mother, I will help as best as I can to come up with a plan to help you and Father escape, but please don't try and dissuade me from this. I'm trying to do what's best for our family." I come and kneel next to her, my flurry of emotions finally relieving my chest, and for the first time in a long time I can breath.

I didn't realize that I had been feeling all of this, nor that I had wanted to plan this if I ever got the chance to meet with either of my parents again. But, I know now that this is the only option; it's always been leading up to this and no twist in destiny could change that.

I finally make eye contact with my mother, as she had been avoiding mine and I soon understand why. Her beautiful gray eyes had filled with tears, and she lifts a hand to her mouth before speaking.

"Draco, of course I will do this. You're very right in that I don't want to be apart of this life anymore, but I cannot go back to get your father." She takes a large breath, and the heaviness of what she's about to say hits me like a ton of bricks.

"Mother-," I begin but her words and an added sob cut me off.

"I can't go back for him, love. He is dead; they killed him."

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	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

My heart catches in my throat and my mouth hangs open unable to be shut.

I'm only slightly aware that my mother has begun to sob incessantly, but no tears come for me. I'm only in shock, and my heart has a dull ache behind it that I don't believe will ever go away.

"Mother." I say, pulling myself out of the fog in my mind as I can. I move to hug her, and she meets me halfway, still crying uncontrollably. I am lost for words in more than one way; I'm over come with sadness at the loss of my father, anger at the people who took his life, fear for the unknown of what is coming next, and relief that it wasn't my mother. Maybe that should be upsetting to me, but it's not. My father has not truly been my father for the longest time. This grief that I'm feeling now isn't purely for him, but for the body the last of his spirit has finally left.

I've already accepted the death of my father a long while ago, it's just now it's been made real.

"I'm so sorry, Draco. You needed to know and I needed to get out of there. I'm so sorry." My mother pleads on my shoulder, staining my shirt with fat tears.

"I completely understand." I lean out of the embrace and put my hands on her shoulders. "So, you already escaped then, with no intentions of going back." It wasn't a question, just my understanding of the matter finally sinking in and making sense.

"Yes." She gives me a wry smile. "Now we can leave, and find peace somewhere else!" A hard pang bangs against my rib cage as I think back to the bushy haired witch currently sitting up in my room back at the manor.

"Mother, I promise you I will meet you as soon as I can, but there are things I need to do first. We will make a destination and meet there, I promise." Her face falls again, and her expression hurts me. But, I know I would be doing a disservice to my conscience if I didn't go back and at least free Hermione. I have no dice in this game anymore.

"I understand you must do what you must. I will send another house elf when I've found somewhere safe for us. Please come as soon as you can, my son." She gives a half smile and hugs me again. She then takes out her wand, mouths an 'I love you' and disapparates.

I waste no time after I see the last flick of her long robe, and it only takes me two strides to reach the door. I close it behind me, and make my way as quickly as possible down the street I came and around two more corners. My mind is reeling from everything, including the loss of my father.

 _Get it together, Draco! You need to meet with him today, it's the only option. Then you can return and free Hermione with the information you need!_

I'm impatient, but I know if I don't find where this ungrateful prat has run off and hidden to, there's no way I can let Hermione return to her friends. He has information they need, but no one has been able to find him since the battle at Hogwarts. I think I may have found where he's hiding, I just hope I'm right.

I pass many buildings on my way, the closer I get to Diagon Alley the more and more run down they become. I finally reach the street and I no longer care who's watching. Feeling a set of eyes on me, I full out sprint to the joke shop, spring through it's doors and slam them shut behind me. Before the two trackers can come through them, however, I swiftly pull out my wand and seal the doors shut and then black out the windows with another flick of my wrist so they cannot see inside.

"What do think you're doing here, Malfoy?" An angered voice calls from behind and I turn to find myself at wand point by the remaining Weasley twin. "I asked why are you here?" He says again a bit louder.

"Please, I'm not here to harm or threaten, or any of that." I say and I slowly re-pocket my wand and put my hands up, palms facing him.

"Then leave." He spits.

"I can't. I need to talk to him."

"To who?"

"You know who I'm speaking of." I say, the frustration finally seeping into my voice.

"No, I don't. And, I don't think I like you're tone, _Malfoy_." He moves a few steps closer and I can see how pale he has become since the battle. His clothes are baggy, as though he hasn't found the will to eat since his brother's death, and his eyes cast the deepest shadows I think I've ever witnessed on a living person.

"I'm not trying to start anything here, Weasley. I'm just trying to get information and that's all."

"Well, that sounds to me like you are trying to start something then; the only information being held in these walls is none of your or your kind's business. And, furthermore, I would rather die before telling you even my favorite bloody color. So, leave, now. And, take your two best friends with you." He motions to the door behind me and the clamoring of spells being bombarded upon it by the men who were following me.

"I'm not going anywhere. Not until I speak with him!" I say more pleadingly then I would like.

"The only person here is me, and I'm not telling you a damn thing! Now leave, or I will make you leave!" He shouts and raises his wand.

"You will do no such thing, Mr. Weasley." The soft, slimy voice comes from what sounds like underground. Then a door otherwise hidden emerges and opens on the floor between myself and the red headed prat.

"What the bloody hell-?" The twin whispers as the door opens and the person I've been searching for finally steps out.

"It's been a while, Draco." Severus Snape says, a small grin playing on his face.

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	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

"What the bloody hell!?" The red headed man screamed as he now aimed his wand at the darkly cloaked wizard. "Where-? What-? How long?!" He finally sputtered.

"Relax, Weasley." Snape said, dusting his shoulders off with a flick of his wand, "And, put your wand away. Merlin, you would have thought you've seen a ghost."

"Well, I thought that you may be one by now; so it's not that far fetched." I drawled, and his attention turned back to me. His black eyes staring his usual hard stare, but there was a little pride in there that I hadn't ever seen before.

"Indeed. Well, this is how it had to be; make one or both sides believe I was gone until this damn war is over. Then I could go wherever I want and be whomever I want to be...but you ruined that. I can't say I'm unimpressed at you discovering where I was staying much less that you figured out that I was alive. How did you do it?" His voice sounded a little gruff due to lack of use, but it was still as monotone as ever.

"I have my own secrets, Snape. I won't pretend that I don't wish to disclose them with you, especially not in front of this prat." I motioned to the Weasley boy who had still not pocketed his wand and was watching the transaction between myself and the greasy haired man with a strange fixation.

"You still didn't answer my question!" He blurted, suddenly regaining his composure. "Why were you _living_ under my shop? When did you get under there- _how_ did you get under there? This place is booby-trapped in fantastical ways! How long have you been here?" His words were fast, and I couldn't help but smile at the disdainful look Snape was giving him.

"Not that I have to answer to the likes of you, Weasley-"

"Actually, you do! This is my bloody shop, you greasy haired prat!" He jabbed is wand in Snape's direction and his voice shook slightly. I couldn't tell if this was due to anger, frustration or sheer incompetence.

"Perhaps, I should explain, though don't you think for a moment that it's because I feel that I owe you anything." Snape bit back,"It is simply due to my having been discovered," he gave me a curt look, "I must not only make my allegiance known now, I want to make sure the story gets back to the appropriate parties in correct detail."

"I have no choice now but to step out of hiding and declare a side." He sighed as though even the thought of this was exhausting.

"Well, go on with it then." Weasley said impatiently.

"Indeed, we have quite a bit to discuss, so the faster you make your little speech the faster we can move on to bigger things." I say, a touch aggravated as well.

"Do not think either of you can tell me what to do and the manner to do it in! It is important that both parties in this battle understand my allegiance; this isn't just some little speech, Draco, " he rounded on me, "declaring my side in this war determines whether I live or die when I return to them."

"I understand this, but other people's lives are in danger here too!" I say exasperated.

He took a moment to study my face, and his eyebrows went high. "It seems we do have quite a bit to discuss.." he stated softly.

"Very well," Snape cleared his throat, "yes, I have been living under your shop without your knowledge." He turned to the red headed wizard who still had his wand firmly aimed at Snape's chest.

"I did this so that my safety was insured, and so that no one else would be killed." Weasley let out a huff, as though he didn't believe that for a moment. "It's the truth; if the Dark Lord went into someone's mind-anyone's mind, looking for me, he would not find anything. They would have a better chance that way of living."

"I'm sorry, but have you met that crazy bastard?" The red headed interrupted. "If he has anyone of the Order or otherwise in his grasp it wouldn't matter whether or not they knew where you were; he would kill them anyway!"

"That may be-"

"No, it is! How many times do you think that has happened? You weren't trying to _protect_ anyone except yourself! Don't pretend to be staying under my shop for the benefit of others; you were under there because you're nothing more than a coward!"

"I am not a coward!" Snape roared, but it didn't faze the Weasley boy.

"Could have fooled me!" He yelled back.

"Can we continue please?" A headache forming in my sinuses, and an overwhelming need to get back to the Manor is wearing on my patience. I don't have the time, nor the want to stay here longer than needed and I still need to talk to Snape privately.

It took a moment, but Snape finally took a breath and continued, though he never let his stare wander from the Weasley boy or his wand.

"Indeed, my safety was my first concern, but that is because I had no where to go."

"Not true! You could have gone to either side and have been welcomed with open arms!" Weasley said.

"You aren't right in the slightest! The Dark Lord figured out on the first run of the castle that I was playing double agent! I would have been killed if I had gone back to him! And, the Order wouldn't have welcomed me after all I did to the school and allowed the Carrow's do to it's students! Don't fool yourself into thinking that I wouldn't have been outcast. I was at a loss of places to go, so I came here. Oh, and your 'booby-traps' are useless, maybe try changing them?" He finished.

"Wonderful, do you have all of your answers now, Weasel?" I say and the red headed wizard acts as though he forgot I was there. He moves his wand from me to the potions master, unsure of where to keep it.

"He still hasn't stated what side he's on, and if there are two Death Eaters in my shop then I have no choice but to stop you." He says.

 _Typical Gryffindor..._

"I haven't been a true Death Eater for 17 years." Snape answered firmly, "And, I don't plan on going back. Especially not now."

Seeing this as a valid response, the Weasley boy trains his wand on me.

"It may fall on deaf ears, but I don't wish to be on this side of the fence anymore either." I say, not as confident as I feel.

It's the first time I've admitted it to anyone but myself, but this time spent with Hermione and everything happening with my mother, the death of my father, the feeling of switching sides is so overwhelming, I'd be a fool not to go through with it.

"Well, I don't know if I believe that." The Weasley boy says, and takes a step towards me.

"I don't care if you believe me or not, but I need to speak with Snape privately or someone else may die." I say, standing my ground now.

"And who would that be, _Malfoy_?" His voice full of spite.

"Hermione."

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	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

"Rage turned to relief in a single blink of the Weasley boy's eyes.

"She's alive? Where is she? I need to tell the others!" His wand forgotten at his side now, and excitement in his voice.

"No! Did you not hear what I just said? She might die!" I say exasperated. "You can't know where she is, and you can't tell anyone else! She will be put in more danger. He and I," I gesture to the greasy haired wizard to my left, "need to figure this out before anyone else can-"

"She's my friend, Malfoy! And the others have been worried sick with not knowing whether or not she's even alive! You can't ask me to keep this from them, and you have no right to!"

"I'm not asking, _Weasley_ ; I'm telling. This is a matter of life and death, and quite frankly she's not the only one in danger here. You will not tell anyone else!" I say, extracting my own wand now, but leaving it at my side.

"I'd like to see you try." His words seething, the Weasley boy takes a step towards me which incites me to the same in his direction.

"This has been quite a lovely show, but I seem to be growing tired of it." Snape said and flicked his wand, that I don't recall seeing him have out two seconds ago. The redhead's and my own wand release from our hands and levitate quickly to the older wizard.

"Now, if you are truly changing your allegiance," Snape stared pointedly at me, "you will need to understand that the Order is more than just a group hell bent on one goal. Unlike the Death Eaters and like that you are accustomed to, the Order defines its' members as family."

"How sentimental of you, Snively." The Weasley boy scoffed, which earned him a hard pressed glare from Snape.

"I suggest you let me continue without interruption if you wish to know anything about Ms. Granger." The boy's smirk dissipated, and he folded his arms in contempt. "As I was saying," Snape turned back to me, "Everyone in the Order, unlike the group you've most recently associated yourself with, is very close. They care for each other and, as benign as I believe it to be, it's one of the things that makes them stronger than Him and his legion of followers."

"Your point, Snape." I state, becoming increasingly aggravated.

"My point, you sniveling little brat, is that if you want the side you claim to be fighting for now to accept you into its ranks, you have to earn it. You have to earn their respect as well as their acceptance. And one of the ways to do this is to allow them to know, allow Granger's second family to know that she is alright, at least for the moment." He finishes and that damn Weasley gives a smirk, truly believing he's won this argument.

"Fine, you can tell them that she is alright, but she won't be for long." Irritation in my voice rises as I watch the Weasley boys smirk turn to a frown. "I need to speak with you alone, Snape. Only you will be able to help me reverse the wards and curses that are in place that are keeping Hermione trapped."

"Oi! You heard him; she's like my little sister. If you need help freeing her, you'll have to fill me in too!" The redhead snapped.

"And I'm telling you: _no_! Her life and my mother's life are already in danger! There's no way in hell I'm going to 'fill you in,' so that you can blab about it to everyone else and they can form some sort of 'rescue mission' and get all of yourselves, plus Hermione killed! If that happens, my mother will be next, and I'll be damned if I allow you to put her life in even more danger than it already is!" I fumed off, making Weasley stumble back a step.

After a few seconds of silence, he spoke up again, this time his tone was soft.

"Malfoy, I didn't know your mum was involved in this."

"Because it's none of your business!" I shot back.

"Maybe, it's best if you go tell the rest of the Order that Ms. Granger is alive and that Draco and I are assisting in her escape." Snape said turning to the Weasley twin.

"And make you look good?" He snorted.

"No, to make them aware not to kill us when we show up at Grimmauld Place with her." Snape said coolly.

The red head stood there for a moment before mumbling something under his breath and sauntering off up the stairs and through a door I can only guess to be his office and bedroom.

"Get on with it then." Snape gestured at me.

"She's at my Manor." I say quickly and Snape nods as if this is nothing new to him. "The issue is that she's trapped there by enchantments and wards that I have no idea how to reverse. If she attempts to leave they will be alerted, and most definitely killed." I pause to look into his unmoving black eyes.

"I need you to help me reverse the wards so we can leave..I also need to know where to take her that she will be reunited with Potter and his merry gang of misfits."

"Well, I can't tell you where to find Potter, but I mentioned Grimmauld Place earlier and I will assist in bringing you there. At least there will be Order members there to care for her. I will try my hand at the wards, if Bellatrix placed them it should be a breeze; she's so predictable in those terms." Snape said, and he hands me back my wand. He places the Weasley twin's on a glass table filled with pink edible spheres, and makes for the door. I follow without a word.

As we make our way down the street and out of sight of the lights that line it, I can't help but feel we've wasted too much time. The pang of worry for my mother and sadness for my deceased father hits me suddenly, and I can only hope that the plan pans out smoothly.

We disapparate together and land gently at the front door of my Manor. I open the door and as soon as my foot hits the interior marble floor, a scream erupts from the floor above. I turn to Snape and shout:

"Get the wards down! I'll get Hermione!" I catch a slight nod from him before sprinting up the staircase to my room.

I throw open the door just to see a crumpled and bruised Hermione laying on the floor, my Aunt Bellatrix standing above her, wand pointing at my face.

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	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

"Nice of you to finally return, nephew." Her words like ice that has frozen me in place.

"Aunt Bella, what a lovely surprise." my hand slowly reaches to my pocketed wand, but she catches it. With a flick of her wand I'm up in the air, then hitting hard against the adjacent wall and falling to a heap on the floor.

"Tsk, Tsk...ohh Draco. You know, before I came up here and discovered the mudblood sleeping in your bed, I was proud of you." Her words a sharp silk slipping off her tongue. She walks towards me slowly, when she gets to me she kicks me hard in the side before bending down and grabbing my by the hair, her wand to my throat.

I inadvertently let out a grunt of pain, which makes her smile the wicked grin you can never really become accustomed to.

"I was proud of you, you filthy blood traitor! How dare you take this task the Great Lord gave you and tarnish it!" Her breath is warm and horrid on my face, and I'm faintly aware of some blood trickling down the back of my head.

"You know," she whispers, getting closer to me, "I believed you when you made up all of that nonsense about being able to get information out of her with false trust, but it seems I am the one to be fooled. Don't get me wrong, you were quite believable and I know plenty of Death Eaters to have their way with captives...but none of them have brought them back to their room, fed and bathed them, much less clothed them!" She ended with a boom, and instead of hitting me with a curse she smacks me across the face with her wand, opening a painful wound.

"It isn't what you think-"

"Spare me!" She shouts back. "I told you what would happen if you failed, Draco. And, you have done just that!" She pulls me up to a standing position by the hair, wand trained back to my jugular. "After you're dead, I will bring the bitch to the Dark Lord, and who knows! Maybe he will allow the others to take their turns with her too!" The thought of it made her cackle and my blood boil.

"No!" I snarl and reach for my wand again. This time, I'm quicker.

With a flick of my wrist, Bellatrix is shot backwards and hits one of my bedposts. I stumble forward, not realizing how badly I've actually been injured. My ribs are on fire, it's slightly hard to breath and my head is throbbing. I reach Hermione, pick her up and drape her carefully over my shoulder. No sooner does this happen then Auntie Bella straightens herself and begins shooting hexes in my direction. I deflect them as best I can while simultaneously moving as quickly towards the door as I can.

A hex hits the wall next to my head, and the next one hits the door as I shut it. I spit out a curse on the door, and I hear screams when the handle is grabbed on the other side. Knowing it won't hold her for long, I make my way down the stairs to find Snape in the doorway.

"What-?" he begins but I cut him off.

"Just take us there!" I shout and grab the arm of his robes. In an instant we are transported from the chaos of the manor and to a step outside of some dingy looking apartment complex.

Snape knocks two times, and the door opens almost immediately.

"Thank Merlin, Severus! Malfoy?.. Hermione! Oh dear! Come, come in, bring her here!" A flustered Mrs. Weasley ushers us in, and it's at this point my adrenaline starts to decline. My body aches more, and carrying Hermione this way begins to be more painful than originally anticipated.

"Put her here!" With a flick of her wand, what I'm guessing is the dining room table is cleared, and I place Hermione down on it. As soon as she is out of my hands, four people, who I didn't notice were even in the room with us, swoop forward and begin treating and caring for her. At the same time, I am swept backward with force and pinned against yet another wall. A grunt from my right indicates that the same has been done to Snape.

The mans elbow pins me across my neck, spanning my shoulders. A wand points at me from his other hand, and I can't help but feeling a tinge of deja vu.

"Explain!" The man snarls, and I'm temporarily lost for words.

"Obviously Mr. Weasley didn't get communication through." Snape coughed out, and I found I knew the man holding him to the wall.

"What communications?" Lupin questioned fiercely. "Why are you here? Where did you find Hermione?"

"Well, obviously we're here so Hermione can get help, wanker." I spit and the arm on my neck and chest pushes itself painfully against me, making me lose what little breath I had.

"What Mr. Malfoy is attempting to relate is that we mean no harm, we only wanted to help Ms. Granger. He sought me out, and I assisted in getting her here, to all of you _glorious_ Order members." I have to hand it to him: even whilst being held up against a wall, Snape still manages to sound like the unbearably slimy git I've known since I was young.

The man holding me up snorts, and what little light there is in the room reveals a scar on his face and a flash of bright red hair. "Malfoy, a Death Eater, trying to help Hermione Granger? Fat chance! And, the fact that you just admitted to helping him just means you're in on whatever game he's playing at."

"Remus, we will leave if that is what you'd prefer. We only came to deliver the girl." Snape slips out.

"Even if that is the case, Severus, you've just revealed our location to young Mr. Malfoy here. We can't just let you leave after that!" Lupin says it calmly, but you can feel the distaste slipping out of his mouth. I can't recognize if it's directed towards myself or Snape, or both of us. What I do know is the pounding in my head is becoming more dull by the moment, and I'm beginning to feel increasingly light headed.

"Then magically lock us in a room and take away our wands, do what you'd like, but the boy needs care as well!" Snape, suddenly frantic, coughs out as loudly as possible.

"What-?" Lupin turns to look at me, as I try to keep my head upright. "Oh, take his wand and put him down, quickly."

"You're joking!" The scarred face man, who I'm guessing has to be a Weasley, stares incredulously at Lupin.

"Not at all, do it." Lupin replies, and suddenly a hand is sifting through my pockets. I feel strangely naked as I feel my wand taken out the hidden pocket in my robes, and then the arm compressing me to the wall is released, and I can breath again-if not just barely.

I unintentionally drop to the floor, and, not wanting to show any more weakness, I attempt to stand. But, as I do so my arm suddenly feels as though it has been lit on fire. I grab where my mark is, trying to stop the pain somehow to no avail. I let out a deep roar of a scream and drop back to my knees, as the pain grows worse by the second. A blinding light covers my eyes, and I feel like my arm is being ripped off of me, or at the very least wishing it was so that this pain would stop. I can faintly sense someone trying to break into my mind, but I refuse to let them in.

I know it angers whoever it is, and the pain becomes deafening. I feel my body lurch upward, and my throat scrapes as one last horrified yell escapes me, then everything goes dark.

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	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

I hear movement below me, and to my left I can hear deep breathing, as though someone is asleep.

I gently open my eyes, and am simultaneously blinded with the pain that smacks the back of my skull and at the same time licks its way up and down my arm. I move to sit up, and discover that I can't. I can't even turn my head!

The deep breathing suddenly picks up, and I hear someone stand, and then a raking noise against the floor accompanied by several thumps.

"Well, look who finally woke up. Mornin' princess." Mad Eye Moody stares down at me, his fake eye swiveling up and down my body. I try to speak, but nothing happens; I'm as stiff as a board.

"I wouldn't bother trying to speak, they did a nice job of making sure you wouldn't be able to run, if you catch my drift." He moves out of eyesight and I hear the clanking of bottles, something being uncorked and then finally liquid being poured into what I'm assuming is a glass. His leg scrapes the ground again and he reappears above me, a glass of fire whiskey in hand.

"I imagine you aren't too happy, not that I care, but you should know that they fixed up your ribs. They were fairly busted. That knot on your head is all but healed as well. As for that cut on your cheek, well Molly doesn't think it'll leave a scar, but I'm kind of hoping she's wrong on that." He toasts me, and then walks away again. That damned leg of his scratching the wooden floor boards so loudly, I begin to feel my pulse in my head.

"You'll have to wait until their done checking on Ms. Granger for you to be unhexed and examined yourself." He lets out a heavy sigh and a bite of a cough, "Though, if I had it my way and were here last night, you would have never gotten through the front door."

"Well, you weren't here, now were you?" A cold voice comes from the farther side of the room and I recognize it to be that of Snape. Even out of eyesight, I can tell that he's sneering.

"Ah, if it isn't the traitor!" A snide remark from Moody is interrupted by the greasy haired ex professor.

"I'm not a traitor." The words are firm and the anger behind them is evident. "I've never been a traitor. They've given me the viritaserum and I've more than proved myself loyal to the order, Mad Eye. Your comments are as useless as they disrespectful."

"Strong words.. from a coward." The words have just as much aggression in them, and I hear movement and the clank of a wooden leg, and I assume that Moody has stood.

"I am no coward." Strong and sturdy steps of two able bodied legs and the sound of wood scraping on wood move dangerously closer to each other, and I am petrified that if they begin to duel I will be caught in the cross hairs.

"Do not!" A shrill voice booms from behind, and I assume it's coming from an open door. "You both put your wands away, right now!" I recognize the voice as that of the older red headed woman that met us at the door. I say a silent prayer to Merlin for letting her walk in when she did and stopping the madness that no doubt would have ensued if she didn't show up.

"There will be no more of this! It ends now; Alastor, Severus has more than proven himself loyal and you need to come to terms with that. And, Severus," a short pause while I imagine the stout woman turning towards the greasy haired wizard, "you just regained The Order's trust. Do you really want to lose it again so soon?" Silence so loud accompanies her words.

"You"re right, Molly. I apologize for my actions." Snape submits, although his words sound as if they come through gritted teeth. Mad Eye says nothing, but after a moment his wooden leg makes its way towards Molly's voice.

"If you need any help with him..." He trails off.

"Yes, thank you Alastor, I think we will be alright." Molly states firmly, and after another few seconds Moody's steps fade down what I assume is a hallway.

"Right then, let's look you over." Soft steps move towards me, and the older witch's face appears above mine with a calm smile set firmly in place.

She flicks her wand, making me hover. She must flick it again because I slowly turn in the air and stop when I'm facing the surface I was previously laying on. Which as it turns out, is an old, dusty and stained couch. The floral pattern on it has faded to the point where the flowers look like pink blobs with splashes of green.

Something brushes against the back of my head, and it burns. If I could flinch away, I would.

"Well, it's healing nicely. I'm sorry that we didn't have enough salve to heal it completely while you slept, but you should be fine." Molly says, and I slowly turn right side up again, and am softly lowered back onto the padded surface.

"Now, I will tell you this before I unbind you: if you attempt to become physical or irate, I will not hesitate to hex you. Is this clear?" I blink, because that's all I can do. But, I understand if I tried to harm anyone in this house or run it would be the last thing I do, so I make no plan to attempt it. Also, this woman seems gentle enough, and some odd feeling in my gut make her remind me of my mother.

 _Mother.._

I hope she is safe. I hope Voldemort hasn't found her...I hope she is still alive.

I'm not paying attention when I'm released from the binding charm, but I notice immediate as my muscles loosen. They are sore from being stiff for such a long period of time, but they don't stop me from sitting up.

"Thank you." I speak in a hoarse voice, and I can't tell if it's from the charm or if it's cause is from the man that had pinned me up against the wall by my neck. In either case, Molly looks taken aback by this being my first sentiment, but nods her head in acknowledgement after a moment.

"Can you tell me, how is Hermione?" I ask sheepishly.

"Well," she starts, pocketing her wand, sufficed that I won't be trying anything," she was a bit more complicated in healing than you were. Whatever happened, took a lot out of her.."

I move to the edge of the couch and run my hands through my hair. Whatever salve they healed my head with, it's mingled and dried with blood and has matted my hair in the back.

"After we give you the viritaserum and ask you some questions, as long as they're answers are..appropriate, you may be allowed to see her. If she's willing to see you." She finishes quickly.

"So, she's ok?" I say.

"She's alive...and she's awake; woke up a little before you did, actually."

"Oh. Good."

I mean it to come off as nonchalant as possible, but I know it means more than that when I can't shake the feeling of relief I have and I keep repeating the same words over and over again in my mind:

 _She's alive...she's awake, and she'll be ok._

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	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

I sit in my world of solace for a moment, and then the Weasley mother all but shattered it:

"Yes, well, she may be awake but she isn't saying much. And, I don't blame her; from the look of her, she's been through quite a bit...but that means we have to give you the viritaserum. If she can't fill in the holes of Severus' story, you need to. And, we very well can't have you lying about it, can we?" It sounded more as if Mrs. Weasley was trying to convince herself that it was necessary for me to take the liquid. I'm just thankful that this is what is next, and not anything more undesirable.

 _Well, they may want to curse you after they discover how Granger got in the condition she's in..._

I shrug away the thought, and try and hide that I'm suddenly nervous about the whole ordeal. Putting on a stone face the Malfoy's are so well known for, I stand when Mad Eye comes back accompanied by the two men from last night.

"Everything is set up, Molly." The older red headed man speaks with stiffness, but when he says the Weasley mother's name it's much softer.. affectionately, even.

Mrs. Weasley nods and motions for me to follow the red haired man. She herself trails behind me as does Snape. When we reach the door, Mad Eye doesn't move completely out of the way, and I have to shuffle annoyingly close to him to get over the threshold. I glance back and watch Mrs. Weasley give him a stern look as she followed suit, he barely noticed it, however, as his attention was directed at me. When Snape passed him after the witch, his normal eye moved to him, but his magical one never left me. It was as though it stared into my soul, and it was certainly unsettling to say the least.

Although, watching the interaction between Snape and Moody was a bit humorous: each glaring at the other, bodies touching in the most unsavory of places. If I weren't about to have to answer a slew of questions that only have horrific answers all the while under a truth serum, why I do believe I would laugh.

Snape's mouth flicks upward in a bout of annoyance after he's passed through the doorway, and the lot of us make our way down a dimly lit hallway to a set of stairs. As we descend, I notice various markings on the wall. Some look as though a picture had been there; the darkness of the wall paper have a much lighter tone in various square shapes. Other marks are blackened, angry streaks; as though a curse had been thrown but dodged.

This coupled with the dimness that seemed to shroud the small, cramped home, made for an ominous feel to say the least.

We reach the landing, and I am guided through the same hallway as last night, and then into the kitchen. However, when we reach the room it's large table is gone, and is instead replaced with a small wooden chair. Whatever coziness the room had possessed was long gone.

"Sit." Moody's gruff voice followed me into the room, his wooden leg scraping against the floor. I wonder silently to myself why they don't just magic the floor to have carpeting so they don't have to hear the old geezer constantly.

As I sit, the old man flicks his wand and restraints fly from seemingly nowhere and hold down my hands and legs.

"Just in case." He sneers, and the bonds tighten, cutting into my clothed flesh.

"It's actually very well that you came when you did, Severus." The older of the two red haired men said pulling a small vile from a worn wooden cabinet behind him. The little amount of clear liquid left sloshed slightly as he shifted it to unstop it. "We are almost out of this, and I may have been well off when it comes to potion making when I was still in school, but it would take me ages to perfect another batch of this. Do you mind?"

"Not at all." Snape drawled.

"Wonderful." He had uncorked the vile and stepped in front of me. He put the vile to my lips and tipped it. As I drink, the liquid warms me starting at my toes and working its way up to my chest. Once it hits my head, the world goes blurry around the edges and a vast feeling of calm openness overcomes me.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Malfoy?" The man asks.

"Pleasant now, but my head still hurts a bit." I say so honestly I surprise myself.

"Yes, sorry about that. As Molly has already explained, we have run low on certain things." He takes a deep breath and steps back "Draco, with Hermione being incapacitated at the moment, I will need to ask you some questions. But, i may warn you that if you attempt to resist the viriteserum, it could become a bit uncomfortable for you. So, just..answer as truthfully as possible, sound good?"

"No, not really but I don't really have a choice do I?" I say in earnest, and small cough of a laugh echos from behind me. I hadn't realized it before, but others were in the room. I can't look behind me, but I can sense there's at least three sets of eyes on me.

"No, I suppose you don't."

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	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

The red headed wizard chuckles, shifts his weight and gives me a warm but tired look.

"Now, first thing's first: Severus has already told us that you came to him for help, this has been confirmed by George, and then the two of you went to your mansion to rescue Hermione. My question's are as follows: why was she in your mansion? What happened there? And, probably the biggest question of all, why did you help her escape?"

A dozen words swarmed my head making me dizzy. Contrary to this feeling though, when I open my mouth complete sentences come stringing out and I have no idea how.

"She was there as a captive of the Dark Lord. My Aunt Bella was charged in torturing information out of her. When she was needed elsewhere the task had fallen to me. But, I couldn't follow through with the things she had done. Not to Granger, not to anyone really..." I let out the last part as a mumble, but the room is so silent that I'm sure everyone heard my words.

"Instead of hurting her further, I offered her food, water, comfort..she didn't trust me, just like you lot don't now. But, it didn't matter. At the same time I started to search for a way out of that hell, or at the very least yearn for it..I thought if I could help heal her..I don't know..maybe it would make me feel better, like I was finally doing something good."

"So, we've confirmed your a selfish prat, but if you were helping Hermione and healing why are her wounds so damn bad?" The voice came from behind and I recognized it as the Weasley twin that was in the prank shop.

I guess his name is George then...

"I don't mean to be selfish, even if my actions say otherwise. And, I received a letter from my mother. She was distressed and asked me to meet her. When I did she informed me that the Dark Lord had killed my father and that she was running. I took it as an opportunity to leave the life of a Death Eater-"

"That doesn't explain why you went back for Hermione." The older red head mused.

"Well..my first instinct was to run but, I don't-I..I don't know. I needed to go back..I felt an obligation to help her."

A sarcastic laugh, "Oh you did now? Maybe because she was tortured in your home, by your blood? You damn prat; may as well string you up by the ankles and treat you like she was treated in your home."

"George!" The man bellowed, "That will not happen. We will decide the end result after the interrogation. You know this. If you can't behave yourself, then there is the door." He pointed to the kitchen's closed door and George murmured a "sorry, Dad."

I open my mouth again, and more words spill out.

"I may be a prat, but I still went back for her. I even found Snape to help me..I knew if my mother had fled, the next place they'd go would be the Manor..she didn't deserve any more.." I cut off my words, and felt a sharp pain in my side for doing so. I flinched, and it didn't go unnoticed.

"So, what happened when you arrived back at your home?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"When we got there..she was screaming..I ran as fast as I could to my room-"

"You're room?" George said loudly.

"Yes. I put enchantments on it so that she wouldn't escape it. It was the only place in the house where I could keep an eye on here, make sure that she was comfortable and healing correctly."

"Are you sure that's all you did you sick-"

"George!" Mrs. Weasley spoke up this time, though she did look a little unnerved at my words.

"I did sleep next to her one night, but it was only to stop her from having night terrors-" A fist collides with my face so hard that I almost topple over, taking the chair I'm tied to with me. I spit out a bit of blood, and George is restrained and taken out of the room.

"What happened when you got to your room, Draco?" Mr. Weasley said coldly, as if nothing had changed and I hadn't just been socked in the face.

"I found Bellatrix torturing Hermione. I stopped her, but was injured in the process.." I groan out, my jaw feeling as though it may fall off.

"Why did you help her escape? Why didn't you just leave her for dead, or join in? Why should we trust you moving forward?" He deadpans.

I get another stabbing sensation in the ribs as I avoid the first question and instead skip to the second, this too does not go unnoticed by the expression I receive from Mrs. Weasley.

"I couldn't leave her for dead, and I wouldn't ever join in on something like that!" I almost yell through the pain. "And, I don't know why you should trust me- I don't know what to say or do to make it so. But, I do know that I don't want to be what I was; I don't share their ideals, I never have. It's just easier now for me to see it. It doesn't excuse what I've done, but no one could hate me for those things more than I hate myself for doing them!" The pain is almost unbearable, as I refuse to answer the first question asked. I don't truly know why I helped Hermione. But, I do know that finding out via truth serum in a room full of her friends and family is not how I want to sort out my feelings.

There's a pause, as though everyone is taking in my words and studying my pain. Then:

"Why did you help her escape? Especially if you knew that you'd probably be put through an interrogation like this?" Mr. Weasley asked more firmly this time.

"Why does it matter?" A stern voice sounded from the doorway of the kitchen, which I see now had been left open after the Weasley twins forced exit. Hermione steps inside, a slight limp in her step.

"Hermione, dear, you shouldn't be up and moving around so soon!" Mrs. Weasley chided and ran to the bushy haired witch's side.

"I'm fine Mrs. Weasley, really." Her tone much softer now, and she turns to the rest of the room, "It doesn't matter about why he came back and helped me. The fact is that he did come back and he brought me here. If he hadn't, I wouldn't be alive right now. For this reason alone, I trust him! I don't understand why this isn't enough for you lot too. Especially you, Mr. Weasley; you're always willing to give second chances to those who deserve them. Tell me, how has Draco Malfoy not earned his?"

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	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

The silence that followed her words was deafening.

"Mrs. Weasley stood with her mouth slightly ajar while her husband had the exact opposite expression. After a moment though, his face softened, and he looked more tired than he had only moments ago.

"You're right, Hermione." When he finally speaks his voice is hoarse. "He does, at the very least, deserve a second chance. But, do know that I'm basing a majority of this decision on your trust in him; if he ruins this opportunity, The Order's trust in you will suffer. Is that understood?" Hermione nods her head in agreement, and I feel even worse for all the things she had to endure in my family's home; for all of the things I could have stopped, but didn't.

I don't believe that they would have done anything horrible to me, as they are supposed to be the people fighting against the tyranny that is Lord Voldemort. That being said, I would be lying if there wasn't a small part of me that was afraid of what they would have done to me. Even if they just sent me back to Voldemort, wrapped in a bow, it would be ensuring my death.

"Is everyone in agreement, then?" Mr. Weasley speaks and jostles me out of my own thoughts. There were grunts of half-hearted agreement that sounded from around the room and then one very loud boom as Mad Eye slammed his leg on the floor.

"No! Absolutely not! He's a Death Eater! How do any of you think this could go well? I am not going to take the word of some child," he motions to Hermione, "that he won't betray us! I will not put the safety of this group in danger."

"That _child_ , has helped defeat a psychopath's followers on more than one occasion, has been captured and tortured for it, and, quite frankly, has a much better idea of who could be helpful to the cause than an old git like you." The words spill out of my mouth before I have a chance to catch them. I curse the damned truth serum for keeping me honest and encouraging, quite forcibly really, me to defend the bushy haired witch.

Mad Eye comes quick to my side, and I notice Mr. Weasley take a step forward. Not towards me, but towards the Auror.

"You've made it abundantly clear you don't trust me, and I don't blame you," I begin, my voice catching slightly in my throat, "After everything my family has done...but you have to believe me when I tell you that I want to make it right. I don't want to-I can't be in league with the Death Eaters anymore...they..they killed my father, without batting an eye. And now, they are searching for my mother-"

"So you don't really want to change, you just want to save yourself and what's left of your Dark Lord loving family! Tell me something, boy," He grabs me by the hair and painfully forces my head backwards, "what happens if we lose this war? What happens, if Potter and the rest of us can't save the whole bloody wizarding world? What then? What happens to you then?"

"Then I die on the right side of things; where I should have been this entire time." I struggle out.

"I don't believe you."

"Well, I'm under veritaserum, so that's quite stupid on your part." His wand comes to my neck, and a voice speaks up. It's loud and authoritative.

"That is enough, Alastor!" I hear Mrs. Weasley step forward as she speaks. "You've made your point, but we've all voted and come to a consensus; Mr. Malfoy stays. We will keep an eye on him, but as of right now he shows no threat."

Mad Eye throws my head back forward and releases my hair. He then storms out of the room as fast as his limp will take him, muttering about 'bloody idiots,' and this 'coming back to bite them all in the ass.'

Someone from behind me comes by and releases me from the chair. As I rub my wrists, a hand clutching a cloth dabs at my nose.

"You don't have to-" I look up and see Hermione on the other end of the cloth. She gives me a strained sort of look, and all of my words become lost in part because of it. The other part is due to a loud screech like sound ringing throughout the house.

 _"This is not a test, I repeat this is not a test!"_

A voice rings out in place of the screeching. It's a shock, but not as much as the initial sound.

 _"Lightning has struck again in Little Hangleton! The storm has left many dead and injured. Houses still stand, and many were...re-enforced...Tune in at the regular time to here further."_

The voice cuts out, and everyone stands in an almost horrified silence.

"What was that?" I ask in earnest.

"That was Potterwatch. An underground radio station that changes regularly so no undesirables can catch it. Even if they do, we use code.." Hermione states blankly. Her eyes still wandering around the room. I notice that not all of her bruises have completely gone, and I feel a twinge of guilt for it.

"What was the code?" I'm clueless, and the remainder of the serum in my system is having a gleeful time letting me express it without any real feeling of remorse.

"It...it said that we-we had a small battle in Little Hangleton." She responded.

"I got that much, but what was the rest of it?" Some slight agitation in my voice, some hesitation in hers.

"That a lot of the Death Eaters and You-Know-Who supporters were killed or injured...but quite a few on our side were as well..."

"And that means..?" I ask, not fully understanding the situation.

"It means," she finally looks at me, fear over taking her delicate features, "that I need to write a few owls."

* * *

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	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty Three**

She turned on her heel and quickly walked out of the room, her bushy hair bouncy furiously until it went out of sight.

It was quiet for what seemed like an eternity; everyone seemed to be busy in their own thoughts. I know that they're thinking of their loved ones; their family and friends. Wondering if the people they personally cared for were the ones that were newest to be cut down by Voldemort and his followers. It's only polite to not speak. So, I absentmindedly focus on my wrists and pretend that I can heal the small, barely noticeable abrasions with friction and gently begin rubbing them.

Finally, Mrs. Weasley makes her way past me and starts bustling around the back end of the kitchen. She kindly gives out chores to the various witches and wizards that remain in the room. Whether this is to help them get their mind off of the report or she genuinely needs these tedious tasks to be done, I don't know.

One by one the Order members make their way out of the kitchen and spread throughout the house until the only people left in the room are myself, Snape and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. When Mrs. Weasley starts sniffling from behind me, Mr. Weasley leaves his thoughts and goes to her. His face gaunt, and his strides are shaky.

"Molly," I hear him say, "my dear, we don't know who...we don't know yet. No need to get upset until we know names." He says it delicately, but Mrs. Weasley's sniffling does nothing but get louder.

I look up at the old potions professor who still stands in front of me and he meets my gaze. His face gives me the impression that he's just as uncomfortable as I am by the whole situation. He shuffles uncomfortably and then clears his throat.

"Arthur," He says, softly, "why don't I take Draco to the room he will be staying in and get him situated?" A slight pause in movement from behind me, and I caution a glance.

The red haired wizard has his hands on either side of his wife, and his face is nuzzled into the crook of her neck. I now understand why Snape shuffled earlier and I quickly turn back around and stifle a laugh. It's not a humorous moment, I know this, but Snape's reaction to any form of public displays of affection is chuckle worthy.

"Yes, that would be acceptable. Thank you, Severus." Mr. Weasley answers and his voice is suddenly filled with exhaustion.

I make to stand and Snape is already through the doorway. I rush to catch up, my muscles sore and my face pulsing where the Order member's fist landed on my face.

We walk up the stairs, and if I strain I can hear the whispers of the other witches and wizards who left the kitchen moments ago. No doubt attempting to comfort and reassure each other. It's uncomfortable because I'm new to their side and I don't know many of them, outside of possibly passing them in the halls at Hogwarts and rendering a snarky comment in their direction. Don't get me wrong, I'm sympathetic for them and I am in favor of the Order's cause, I just can't comprehend what they're feeling right now. And, I don't feel bad about that. Maybe that makes me the same slick haired, 'evil' Slytherin git they all know me to be, but at least I will be focused on what needs to get done.

In a moment where emotions can make a bad decision seem like a good one, it's favorable to have someone who has no sway in the matter. Someone who can keep the attention on what needs to be done, and do it in the best way possible, is probably for the best, especially in the world we are currently living in.

We reach the landing, make a right and Snape opens a clunky wooden door. The inside is only barely bigger than a closet, but it leaves enough room to fit in a small dresser, a bed and a square hanging mirror. The walls are bare besides the mirror and the paint is a dull shade of mossy gray. At the other end of the room is a small wooden door, that I'm guessing hides the bathroom.

"This is your room. You will find some spare clothes in the dresser, and the bathroom is through that door." I smirk as he motions to each as though he is a maitre d at a hotel. He notices, and he stiffens.

"I would wipe that look off of my face if I were you, Mr. Malfoy. The only reason you have a room to yourself is because no one felt safe enough to bunk next to you. Which leads me to my last tidbit of information for you," he takes a step towards me, the smile on my face long gone, "there will be wards on your room, to make sure you stay in it at night. The Order has a recommended curfew, but for you it will be mandatory. These are the rules that were decided by the majority if you were accepted into the Order." He finishes his lecture and I turn to face my new little jail cell.

"It's not as if I'd have anywhere to go anyway." I mumble.

"That's the spirit. Dinner is in two hours." Snape says haughtily. He then turns on his heel and leaves, closing my door behind him.

 _Right old git._

I say it in my head, but part of me wished he'd have heard it.

I enter the little bathroom on the other side of the room and strip off my dirty clothes. The room itself is so small that the shower is almost settled on top of the toilet. I turn the shower on to warm up and in one motion I face the other side of the room where the sink and and a mirror are. Looking into it, I'm almost horrified with my appearance.

My hair is a mess, ruffled by Mad Eye grabbing it and bloody from the night before. My nose has dried blood underneath it and there's a purple mark making an appearance under my eye and on the inner part of my cheek. Beneath all of this though, and probably the most disturbing part of my looks is the gaunt complexion and the dark circles under my eyes. Seeing myself like this let's me fully appreciate how little sleep I've actually been getting for the past few weeks.

Deciding the water was warm enough, I climb in the shower and let myself just enjoy the heat. The muscles that are aching in me begin to ease, and I let my mind wander. I think of nothing, everything, my mother, my allegiance...and most importantly I think of just running away from it all.

* * *

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	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

The warmth shortly leaves the water, and I'm left with no other option but to get out.

I step gingerly onto the tiled floor, and reach for the towel on the rack adjacent to the shower. From this angle I can see a bit more of my body in the mirror, and it doesn't fair much better than my face. Though I scrubbed thoroughly, it still looks as though I hadn't cleaned up at all; there's a large purple bruise that takes up the length of my side, and my abdomen is riddled with so many small scratches and healing brown bruises that I can barely make out the abs I've worked so hard to tone. Looking at myself in this condition weakens me.

 _Life used to be so simple._

I push the exhausting thought out of my mind and focus on drying myself. Gingerly, I lead the towel from my head, down my chest and to my legs. The bruises ache from the smallest palpation, and I find myself flinching more often then I'd like. When I'm satisfied, I wrap the towel around my hips and reach for the door. No sooner do I open it and the towel is firmly secured, the door to my new bedroom opens and in walks Hermione.

"Oh, I'm so sorry-" She says and puts a hand up to her face to shield her eyes. I'm slightly offended by the notion, but play into it none the less.

"Never heard of knocking, Granger? Guess that's how muggles raise their children; no manners. What do you want?" I slick back my hair and watch as her face turns a bright red behind her hand.

"I wouldn't be so rude, Malfoy; I am the reason you weren't thrown out on your ass or given back to the Dark Lord." She retorts, and my attitude dampens slightly. "I came to fetch you for dinner. Apparently everyone feels better not having you wander around the house by yourself."

"I can't imagine why." My reply seethes sarcasm. "Well, turn around then."

"What?" Some small panic in her voice. I let a chuckle escape me, remembering how uncomfortable she was the last time she caught me fresh out of the shower. That memory seems like it happened a century ago. Granted, the circumstances then weren't much better, but at least both my parents were alive, and my mother was safe.

"Face the door, so I can put on some pants. Unless you want me to go to dinner in my current attire." I smirk and she scoffs as she turns.

"No one wants that, Malfoy. Trust me." I don't get the impression she really means that though and I leave the smug smile on my face.

I go to the small dresser in front of the bed and unlatch it. There's a couple pairs of pants, some t-shirts, a sweater and various undergarments and socks. If I didn't know any better, I'd think these people were actually welcoming me.

 _Ha! Fat chance._

I grab out a pair of dark khaki pants and the gray sweater as well as a pair of socks and some underwear. I put them on, and then the socks and pants. As I begin to pull the sweater over my head, however, I tell Hermione I'm ready to go. Apparently to her this meant that she was free to turn around. I find this out as the rest of the sweater clears my head and it settles onto my torso. I instantly know she got a glimpse of all of my bruises because her mouth is slightly ajar and her eyes have gone wide. My face goes stony, and she starts to stutter out something.

"Malfoy, I- I didn't...are you-?"

"I'm fine, let's go to dinner." I slip on my shoes and pass her in the door frame where she remains for a moment in stunned silence.

* * *

Dinner consisted of almost no conversation and about a million concerned glances or straight out dirty looks pointed in my direction. To put it simply: it was rather uncomfortable.

But as the meal finished, the still silence in the room didn't last. The radio was turned back on and there was music until the clock chimed and then it magically switched to the same voice that had interrupted my interrogation earlier in the day.

 _"And now, for the hero's and innocents we've lost today:"_

The voice rattles off about ten different names before it finishes. I don't recognize any of them, but apparently one hits a nerve with just about everybody in the room: Colin Creevy. No one sobs outright, but there are quite a few silent tears.

 _"May all of you rest in bliss; I promise your sacrifice will not be all for naught...One last announcement tonight, before we go: lightning's on fire, and is drowning. Wisdom is safe, but needed. Look to the lake, and skip a few pebbles. That is all. Good night, and stay safe Potterwatch listeners."_

The radio cuts out, the tears dry and anxiety runs rampant in the small kitchen.

"You can't go!" A red headed girl pipes up and it's accompanied by murmurs and head nods of agreement.

"I have to, Ginny. You heard the report; Harry and Ron need me." Hermione says in a matter of fact tone, though her face reveals a pinch of fear.

"Then I'm coming with you!" Ginny demands.

"Ginevra, you will not!"Mrs. Weasley roars, but it does nothing to chide the small red head's determination.

"She can't go alone! What if you get lost and can't find camp?" Ginny turns from her mother to Hermione, "You're still not completely healed! You need protection."

"I'll go." I speak before I think, and the room returns to a cold silence.

"Don't be daft, ferret." Mad Eye chokes. "You're not leaving this house until the war ends."

"I'm not a ferret." I reply stonily. "And, none of you feel comfortable with me here...if I'm out in your 'camp' I can be better observed. Furthermore, if she does get lost," I gesture to Hermione, "I may be of some use; I excelled in potions class and I held my own in defense against the dark arts. Just ask Snape!" I pause and Snape nods in agreement. As soon as Mad Eye opens his mouth, however, I begin my case again. "I know the routes and the mind set of the most unsavory characters you could find out there. I could come in handy."

"I won't get lost, and I can protect myself, Malfoy." Hermione chirps, and I see a smug grin spread itself across Mad Eye's chewed face. "However..you make a good point about knowing the ins and outs of the Death Eaters and their supporters."

"You can't be serious!" Mad Eye roared in contempt. "You're going to bring this traitor to the heart of our cause? Brightest witch of her age my ass!"

"Alastor!" Mrs. Weasley yelled.

"He's been accepted into the Order, and he's right! If he stays here, you lot will be walking on eggshells and constantly looking over your shoulder for a betrayal that's not coming! Snape will stay here and advise you all and Malfoy will come with me and advise the camp. It's the most intelligent move to make, and your negative attitude about the whole ordeal is a liability to say the least!" Hermione finishes and it takes me a moment to realize she's actually fighting for me to come with her.

"It's settled then," Mr. Weasley quips, "Draco," he speaks directly to me, "you will leave with Hermione tonight. Severus, do you mind escorting him to his room to get ready for the trip?" Snape nods and I follow him out of the room.

As soon as we reach the stairs the arguing continues and I force myself to understand what just happened: I'm headed to the belly of the beast.

* * *

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 **See you in the next installment, and Happy Holidays!**


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

"Well, bang up job, you tosser."

Snape speaks as soon as we're out of earshot and his voice sounds harder than normal.

"I have no idea what came over me. The words just spilled out before I could stop them." I admit.

"Yes, well, now if anything happens to Granger you will be looked at, possibly killed or sent back to the Dark Lord-"

"Which is the same thing.." We both pause on the staircase as he turns to look at me.

"Yes, well..just don't let any harm come to her." He looks down and back up to my face quickly before turning and continuing his ascent.

"I'm not going to lie to you: you will be scrutinized much more heavily over at the main camp. They're not going to trust you, and they have good reason not to."

We reach my room and Snape stands uncomfortably in the doorway as I empty the drawers into a suitcase.

"A little help?" I gesture to the suitcase that's overflowing with clothes and look up at the oily haired wizard. He makes a face before unsheathing his wand from the sleeve of his cloak.

"You know, I doubt you will be needing a bow tie out in the fray." He flicks the wand upwards and the pile of clothes falls to the bottom of the suitcase. I watch it and smirk.

"You never know, Severus," I chide, "maybe the Order will hold a ball in the middle of nowhere. Isn't that what the 'good guys' are all about? Beating the enemy, making light out of dark, bringing joy to...monotony? Etcetera, etcetera..." I chuckle at my own joke, but Snape stays blank faced.

"Look," I grab a jumper off a hook close to the door and sigh deeply," I, more than anyone, am hyper-aware of my past. I was being genuine when I said I wanted to move on and leave that part of me behind me. I know people aren't going to just jump on board with a reformed Death Eater, I'm not daft...but that doesn't mean I'm going to pull a you and become a double agent for You Know Who, and I'm not going to just vanish...especially not when my mum is still fleeing for her life." I almost whisper the last part as I zip up the jumper.

"Indeed, but they do not know that, Draco, and it's not me that you have to convince of your allegiance. The members out at camp, in the thick of it, won't be so easily swayed as the majority in this house." He drawls, and I throw some toiletries into the suitcase and buckle it closed.

"Majority," I scoff, "And, I'm not concerned with convincing anyone. I feel like I'm talking to a bloody brick wall!" I sit on the bed and run my hands through my hair. The bruises on my side ache, signaling that I've overworked myself today.

"I don't agree with the Dark Lord, his methods or his beliefs. I feel good about standing with the Order...but my mother comes first. Her safety is my primary concern. Do you understand?" I look up, expecting a disdainful look from Snape, but his face is nothing but soft and almost understanding.

"I understand more than you think..I also understand that if you tell anyone else about how your loyalty to your mother over-rules your loyalty to the Order, being cast out will, once again, be the least of your worries." Snape shuffles his robes and flicks his wand once more. This time the suitcase shrinks to the size of a pill. I nod at him, pick it up and pocket it.

"Dually noted."

The back of his robes swing behind him as he turns to leave, and I follow him.

When we reach the end of the staircase, Hermione is already standing near the door. She wears a winter coat that is zipped up tight, and a small purple purse dangles from her left wrist.

"Ok, so, you will grab onto me and I we will apparate to our intended destination." She says stiffly.

"Right, one quick thing, first." I hop off the last stair and spin to Mad-Eye who is watching my with magical eye. "My wand?" I ask and hold out my hand expectantly.

Mad-Eye stares at my open palm and Mrs. Weasley clears her throat. With agitation etched onto his face, he opens the right side of his long jacket and sticks his hand into one of the deep pockets. After shuffling around in it for what seems like an eternity, he finally pulls out my wand. He holds it out, but before dropping it into my hand, he turns his arm abruptly and gives it over to Hermione.

"Hey!" I simmer.

"Draco, you're not stupid, you know this is just precaution." Hermione says, putting my wand in her own pocket.

"Uh-huh." I walk to her side, giving her a stony look. "Let's just go."

"Wait!" The red headed girl steps out from the kitchen, runs to Hermione and embraces her in a hug. I swear I think I hear her whisper something to Hermione, but she gives no indication of such.

"Be safe, please!" She murmurs as she lets go of Hermione and steps back.

"I will try my best, Ginny." Hermione gives her friend an earnest look and then turns to me. "Ready?"

"Do I have a choice?" She grabs my forearm and I have barely enough time to latch onto hers before we're suffocating, whizzing through the air to only Merlin knows where.

* * *

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	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

We land hard on wet ground, and I try to keep what little air there is in my lungs.

My ribs burn and I subconsciously grab my side, not immediately noticing that Hermione had already gathered herself and was now eyeing me.

"Malfoy-" She starts.

"I'm fine." I drop my hand from my side and try not to look at her face, because I already know what it holds. "I don't need your pity. Where are we?"

"I don't- it's not-!" She takes a breath and pinches the bridge of her nose,"We are in the forest of Dean...it's where Harry, Ron and I first started this-this whole plight." I allow myself to see her now; she has a frown etched onto her soft features and her eyes search the darkness taking in every tree, twig and rock. It's as though she's seeing memories, remembering torments that happened here that are invisible to me.

"When Potterwatch said the bit about skipping stones, I knew it was Ron telling me where they were...only I would know what that meant."

My face flushes and my heart beats a little faster as the smallest bit of anger seeps into me when she speaks about the Weasel.

If she had such a fantastic time here with that twat, why does she look like she's about to break apart?

I shake off the thought and attempt to re-focus Hermione.

"Right, then where did you set up camp last time? Because I don't see anything."

"Well, you wouldn't would you?" She says matter-of-factly, "All of the wards we put up would block your view. We could be in the middle of the camp right now, but if no one allows us to see it…" She spins a bit to the right and then to the left.

"I have a hard time believing they would just let us stand in the middle of their camp looking like a couple of nutters...actually, me yes, they probably would, but you, no, not a chance." I let a small smile play across my face, and she turns bright pink before spinning around back to the right.

"This way, it should be this way." She says and starts marching.

"Maybe we should set up camp until the sun comes up? So we can confirm we're on the right path?" I stay in the spot that I landed when we apparated here; it makes more sense to wait it out until the morning, but Hermione stops and speaks over her shoulder to me.

"I only have one sleeping bag…"

"Well, I don't mind sharing." I smirk and raise an eyebrow, but instead her shoulders stiffen.

"That's not going to happen, Malfoy. Just...come on." She starts walking again and this time I follow, but my smirk only grows.

"If you change your mind-"

"Not going to happen, Malfoy. Stop being a pig." I stop talking, but my expression never changes. That is until I remember the last time I slept next to her; the time that she is still very much unaware of. Then my cocky little smirk disappears and I recount everything that's happened since she's coming crashing into my life..

You mean into your family's dungeon..

As I follow her, I debate admitting to sleeping next to her that one night. I struggle with whether or not to tell her how she quieted when I touched her, how I woke to her facing me and her body formed perfectly against mine, how it touched some part of me I didn't even know I had to lay nuzzled in her hair...how cold each inch of me felt leaving her skins embrace.

We come to a clearing and I ultimately determine that now is not the time to express any of that.

It may never be the time.

"They should be somewhere near here-" Hermione's words are cut off by the sound of a bubble popping and a loud bang following shortly after it. The next thing I know, I'm flung backwards through the air. My body turns sideways, and my back hits a tree full force.

I fall and land in a pile on the ground, my ribs are on fire and I can feel bruises actively forming on my back. I struggle to regain my breath, and I'm hardly listening to what's going on around me, but I do hear the Weasel's voice yelling to Hermione, asking if she's alright.

"Ron, Dean, put down your wands! He's with me, he's with the Order! He-" Her screams become muffled in my ears as a searing hot pain courses through my body. I can feel myself writhing on the ground, small twigs on the forest floor cut at flesh that isn't covered by clothing.

"I SAID STOP!" The pain ends, but is replaced with sharp aches and the breath that I never really caught stays farther out of reach this time.

"Hermione-!" The Weasel's voice sounds stricken. "Give me back my wand!"

"He's with the Order now, Ronald! He's already passed the questioning and been accepted; what you're doing is-"

"Necessary, Hermione! He's one of them!"

"He's not! Listen to what I'm telling you!" There's a rustling of leaves and I'm trying to make my way to my knees. My mind still muffled, my body aching in pains I didn't know possible.

"What is going on?"

Saint Potter…

"Hermione! You got the message and you...you brought Malfoy?" His voice doesn't sound angry, maybe concerned, but mostly surprised.

"Yes, what I've been trying to explain to these two: Malfoy...rescued me. He's changed his allegiance and is working with the Order now, with us!" Hermione's tone is riddled with aggravation, and I don't blame her; chatting with these numbskulls is like explaining long division to a tree frog.

"Impossible-" Weasel begins but is cut off by Potter.

"Maybe, maybe not. What is clear is that we're outside of the safe zone and are speaking rather loudly. There could be snatchers nearby. Pick him up, bring him to my tent and we'll figure this mess out." And then, as if an after thought, "And fetch a healer, would you?"

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	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

Two sets of strong arms roughly haul me up on either side and, even in my dazed state, I wince at the pain.

I'm half carried, half dragged through the camp to what can only be Potter's tent. I can't see through the pain, but I can hear muffled whispers and a few flat out disgruntled shouts aimed at me.

"You can lay him over there."

"Really, mate? You want to put that on your bed?" Weasel asks, and I can picture the grotesque look that is probably etched across his face.

"Ron, please." Potter gives a deep sigh, as if this hasn't been the first time Weasel has been completely without couth. "Just, put him down on the bed. It's the only place that's cleared off and big enough for Terry to do his work..which, thanks to you three, looks like it's been cut out for him."

There were three of them? Bloody hell.

"Wipe that smile off of your face, Ronald. Malfoy is a member of the Order now; you just assaulted one of our own!" Hermione's voice is shrill, and I wonder why she's so upset over me. "You should be ashamed of your actions-!"

"The day I'm ashamed of hexing that ferret, is the day pigs fly 'Mione!" Weasel shouts back and they continue to argue as I'm dropped on the bed, hard. I let out a pained breath, and I'm sure someone sniggered at it.

Quick, muffled footsteps make their way to me.

"Malfoy? Really?" Terry Boot's voice registers in my head as Potter replies with, what I'm guessing is, a curt nod. As the next thing I hear is Boot replying with a "Well, alright then."

I'm in a weird space in my mind; part of me is conscious and can understand what is happening, but the other part of me is incoherent. I can comprehend that this is due to pain and a probable concussion, but I can't speak the words. It's alarmingly frustrating! All I can manage to do is grunt, roll my eyes and sometimes writhe in pain as Terry does his assessment.

"Well, from the looks of it, his spine needs mending," a bright light is shone in my eyes and I fight the urge to close them, "he's got an obvious concussion, his head lac needs fixing and it looks like you've broken half of his ribs."

"You can mend him?" The worried voice of Hermione floats into my ears and my stomach twists into a knot.

"Oh yea. Not a problem, but when he gets better he's coming with us to restock the supplies that are going to be used on him." A slight pause before Terry continues after, I'm guessing, is a puzzled look from Hermione. "It's the rules of the camp; you use something, you replace it. Usually we send out a team at the end of every other week to refresh our supplies, I don't see why he won't be able to assist in next weeks!"

"Wonderful.." it's a mutter, but even in my out of focus state I can still hear it and put a red headed, freckled face to the voice.

"Must you be so crude?" Hermione rounds on Weasel.

"I don't understand why you're sticking up for this prat, Hermione!" He whistles back.

"Because 'this prat' is apart of the Order now, Ronald! He's chosen his alliance and has been accepted by higher up officials than you!" In the middle of her sentence a sharp pain digs into my left arm.

"Just some skelo-gro, mate. Going to give you some fluids, a potion for your concussion and a bit of muggle pain medicine as well so you can't feel me stitching up your head." Boot whispers in my ear, and I thank Merlin that I wasn't ever a prick to him. Or, if I was, he doesn't remember it!

"Just because he 'chooses' to be a good guy now that the Dark Lord's standing is starting to take a shit, means nothing to me! We've fought against him and his family! He has no right to be here!" Weasel interrupts the haze the muggle pain meds are beginning to create.

"He has every right!" Hermione bites.

"Not in my book, Hermione. And not in the books of most people in this camp!"

"He saved my life!"

"After it was almost taken from you by his crazy aunt in his family's house!" There's a hush that falls on the room. For a moment I'm tempted to think these drugs have all but knocked me out, and then she speaks. It is the saddest voice I've ever heard from her, worse than the wails of pain that rocked out of her body by my Aunt's hands, or when I revealed to her that her looney little friends was killed.

"You… you knew?..You knew where I was?..This whole time, and you didn't bother to-?"

"Hermione, it's not like that at all." Potter puts on a soothing tone, but the guilt in it cannot be masked.

"We had to make sure whatever plan we came up with would ensure that everyone came home safe. It's not just us three planning to take down horcruxes in the woods anymore-there's more people to think about now, their families..their lives."

"Harry, I understand; I'm not an idiot...but, I am your friend...And, I thought at the very least I thought I would have a bit more priority than whatever it is you have been doing out here. I think I'd be worth a little more...especially to you, Ronald. I thought I'd be worth some sort of fight...my apologies!"

"Hermione, you are-!" His words are cut off by quick footsteps leaving the tent, and then everything goes black for me.

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	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

It's been about a day or two now since I've arrived at Camp Potter and although I'm feeling better, I can tell that Hermione isn't.

She seems to have forgiven Potter for not coming to her aid right away, but she's been avoiding the Weasel like he's infested with something other than stupidity.

Hermione is the brightest witch of her age; I know that she's aware that other people's lives would be at stake if a rescue plan for her wasn't completely thought through. Especially knowing first hand what type of wards the Dark Lord is capable of encapsulating my family's manor in. But, I also understand the hurt that is there. These are her friends, and you can bet that if it were Weasel in her shoes they would have had a plan made, approved and executed weeks ago! There's also something that I'm starting to catch onto as well, and it bugs me.

There's no hiding that there's something, or at least there was something, going on between Hermione and the Weasel. I don't know to what extent, but it seems he's just as daft at wooing a woman as he is at any sort of wizardry. I get the impression that they haven't flat out explained their feelings towards each other. And, as if that wasn't the roughest part of it, now knowing that they've had her whereabouts known for how long now, and he didn't even fight to put a plan into action faster..well it seems he's just drastically damaged his chances.

At this thought, a little smirk plays out on my face. I'm not completely in the dark about why it's there, but it's something that I can't think about…something I don't want to think about. At least, not right now.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" Terry Boot walks into the medical tent with a bowl of what smells to be vegetable soup. After the initial healing in Potter's tent, and getting a detailed story from Hermione about the goings on at the Black House, much to her chagrin at that point, he decided that it would be safe to move me into the public medical tent. For the rest of the camp, of course, not for me.

It's dirt floor is covered in a thin fabric, as this must be one of the cheaper made tents, but it's still warm and comfortable enough.

"Ah, nothing." I reply.

"Doesn't look like nothing. You've got a glint in your eye that reveals your true purpose, Malfoy." He hands me the bowl of soup and taps his left eye with one finger. I allow a chuckle to escape my lips before insisting that it was just a memory of a girl I think fondly of.

"Ah, see! Told you that it's not nothing!" He winks at me, gets up to leave with instructions to drink the whole bowl and I realize something.

"Hey, Boot." I say before he disappears through the tents front drapes.

"Yea?"

"Thank you, for helping me. I know you didn't have to, but I appreciate it."

"It's my job, Malfoy…" he says turning, then thinking better of it, "and you're welcome."

About an hour after he leaves, an older witch enters the tent and begins tending to the other beds. I can assume by her pursed lips and her obvious avoidance of me, that she is one of the people in the camp that is utterly against my presence here.

It's not like I can blame her, or any of them, for not wanting me in their camp. The last time that most of them had seen me, I was fleeing the battle with my family. So many of them lost so much that day, and I cannot fault them for not trusting me...that being said, the hate filled stares are becoming quite annoying, and I haven't even explored anywhere outside of this bloody tent yet!

"Arm." The old witch meanders over to me and puts out her hand. I give her my arm and she roughly removes the IV then turns to leave.

"Am I all done with the skele-gro then?" I ask and her back stiffens. She doesn't even look at me when she replies:

"Yes. You'll be here for two more days then you will be sent out to retrieve the supplies you used." She answers, and even though I can't see her face, I can picture her pursed lips hardly moving. For some reason, this amuses me.

She goes to exit again, and I just can't help myself:

"Oh, I thought the next supply run wasn't until next week." A small smirk playing on my face.

"It wasn't until you came and used up most of our potions!" She shoots me a dirty look before almost throwing herself out of the room. The response elicits a dry laugh from me, but my smile and arrogance are quickly replaced by a wince as pain shoots through my ribs and back.

 _This will all be better in two days, huh?_

While I question whether or not I will really be back to 100% in that short amount of time, or if they just don't want me around their sick and wounded for too much longer, Potter comes into the tent and makes a beeline straight for my cot.

He pulls the curtain around us and casts a silencing charm.

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	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

"Going to murder me, Potter? I don't think anyone in this tent would care; no need to cover your ass." I sit up and, much to my displeasure, I wince again; I don't want the hero 'boy who lived' to see me weak.

"I'm not going to murder you." He says and sits on the edge of my caught. He pinches his nose and I take in his appearance, really, for the first time since I've gotten here.

Potter looks like he hasn't slept in weeks; his eyes have bags underneath them, his skin is pale and his hair has grown out and is even messier than usual.

His hand falls from his face and he looks at me.

"I don't trust you, not yet." He looks at me.

"Yea, I was completely oblivious to that." I reply sarcastically.

"Don't be crass, Malfoy. Let me finish," He takes a deep breath, "I don't trust you, not yet, but I'm willing to give you a chance to prove yourself to me and to the rest of us." He motions an arm around the room and I know he's implying to everyone in the camp, not just the few outside the perimeter of the makeshift curtain.

"And what is the next test I have to pass, eh? Where's the next hoop of fire that I have to hurtle through?" Irritation scratching the back of my throat.

"You know exactly why you're 'jumping through hoops,' Malfoy." Potter's voice is suddenly cold and if I were a weak little mouse like half of his followers, I would have coward away from it slightly. But, I hold my ground. "Up to this point you and your family have blindly followed a monster, not caring who you hurt or kill along the way. In fact, you revelled in it! You may have changed allegiances, but no one trusts you right now, for good reason! Hell, some may never trust you, but that's the burden you're going to have to bear. You chose your path, deal with it-"

I scoff and interrupt him, "You think I chose this life? I didn't choose this, my Father did. I had no say in the matter, just like you had no say in whether or not you wanted to be 'The Boy Who Lived'!"

There's a deep silence for a moment while he and I just stare heatedly at each other. Then, I take a breath and speak again.

"I'm not ignorant to what people say and think about me and my family. And, I will never deny the things that I've done, no matter how terrible. I don't blame people for being upset, especially if I have been even partially the cause of their pain. But, I will not pretend that this is the life I wanted, and I certainly won't let people believe that lie. I'm finally taking control of my life and choosing the direction I want to go in..my only regret in this is that I didn't have the gall to do it sooner."

Potter looks at me a moment longer, and then gives a short nod.

"We leave tonight, at dusk. You'll get your wand back when we reach our destination. Meet us in the courtyard." He stands to leave.

"The crotchety old lady in here earlier said I wouldn't be good for missions for another two days." I protest.

"You're going to want to be on this one...trust me." He says and gives a weak smile before he withdraws the curtain, removes the silent bubble that surrounded us, and leaves the medical tent.

"Oh Saint Potter! Always so funny!" I yell after him, making the few sick and injured patients around me scowl in my direction. "Come off it, you all know he's a bloody tosser." I respond.

Between when Potter visited my tent and dusk I fell asleep. I barely woke in time to hastily dress and hobble my way out to 'the courtyard.' In reality, it's a small clearing in the middle of about a dozen different tents. I would have walked right through it, had it not been for the small group formed in the very center.

There's a few faces I recognize like Potter, Weasel, Terry and Hermione. But, there are about three or four others I can't put a name to.

"Finally." Weasel whispers under his breath, which is greeted by a sharp quick stab to the ribs by Hermione's elbow.

"He's wounded by your hand, I might add. Don't be such a prat." She says and he looks like he wants to reply, but thinks better of it.

"Okay, so, the plan for tonight is to get in, get our people, and get out. No prisoners, everyone comes back. Understand?" Potter gives the orders in an authoritative voice, and everyone nods fervently. "Buddy up, Malfoy, you're with me."

The other's grab elbows and I notice Hermione looks vastly uncomfortable to be paired with the Weasel.

I latch onto Potter's arm as he begins a short countdown.

"Three, Two, One-" and we're whizzing through a compact amount of space. My breaths aren't as deep these days and when we land, I feel it.

"You alright?" Potter mumbles as I'm currently doubled over in pain and weak attempts to breath.

"Oh yea, just peachy- you know the burning in my chest really lets me know I'm alive!" I manage out and he gives a short chuckle before helping me stand straight.

"Here." He hands me my wand, but doesn't release his grip on it. "No funny stuff." He says, and looks at me with stern eyes.

"Wouldn't dream of it." I reply back, and he finally let's go. Having my wand back in my possession, even if it may only be for right now, makes me feel almost whole again. I almost forget what's happening around me as this feeling washes over me.

"Alright, everyone line up, wands up. Be vigilant!" Potter's in the front of the crowd, and it's only now that I look around me and take in my surroundings.

We've landed on a dark city street. There's no lights on and the silence hangs damply in the air. There's a heavy feeling in each step we take. The houses look like they once were pristine, but now the rock facades are blackened and broken. Their windows are boarded or shattered, and some even have tattered curtains whipping out into the walkway.

I don't ask where we are, I don't actually want to know; if it's somewhere I've been before, this will be the new memory that haunts me, not a happy one.

Suddenly, everyone is crouching. We approach a cul de sac, and the house in the middle is great and white. It has large marble pillars that reach up to the second story, and in the far right window, at the very top of the home, there's a dim light flickering.

"There!" Potter says in a rushed whisper. "Get ready."

We silently run up the grassy yard to the front door. Potter motions for the three people I don't know to go round the back, and then he whispers "Alohomora," and opens the door.

Once the rest of us are inside, we illuminate our wands and wordlessly walk up the stairs to the left of our entrance, and make our way to the end of the the hall that sits at the top. The door at the end on the right is ajar, and the flickering light is brighter inside than it was from the street.

Potter reaches it and, signaling with fingers, counts down from three then slams open the door, casting disarming spells as he does so.

The rest of us enter, but the spells that Potter had been casting quickly and without regard, cease. Our wands all point to the only Death Eater left standing. She holds a sharp blade to the throat of a tall, thin woman with black hair that has a bright white stripe going through it.

"Oh, look who came to rescue you, Sissy! It's whittle Draco and his new group of filthy friends!"

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	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter Thirty**

My voice catches in my throat and I feel my face go red before I'm able to regain some sense of composure.

"Let her go, Bella." My tone is much more sturdy than I feel, but it doesn't matter anyway. All my demand does is cause her to laugh one of her crazy laughs.

"Oh! No more 'Auntie Bella,' Draco?" She mocks with a half cocked smile. "My, how your new friends have quickly turned you into a little brat!" She presses too hard on the side of my mother's neck making a thin line of blood trail down from the point to the dark sweater covering my mother's shoulders.

"I said let her go!" I demand with a voice much stronger in tone. My mother lets out the smallest of whimpers. I'm not even sure any of the others caught it.

"Why? Will you and baby Potter send some itty bitty jinxes my way if I don't?" Another maniacal laugh escapes her badly chapped lips. "I'm shaking!"

It's at this moment I notice whispering behind me, and I am suddenly made aware that our group is much smaller than it had been when we first arrived. Obviously Bella hadn't noted the down sizing either, because she just continues on laughing.

"Bellatrix," Potter speaks up and takes a step so that he is now even distance away from my aunt as I am. Again, I didn't notice moving forward so far ahead of him.

"Put down the knife and release your sister. Let her come with us and no more will get hurt tonight." Potter says this calmly, but it still causes my aunt to flail her anger.

"You've got some nerve! Usually I'd admire that in a person, but it's you...so I don't!.. You really think I would rather give my sister up to a bunch of blood traitors and mudbloods than just kill her myself? Save her and the family the damage her son and late husband inflicted on our name?" At 'late husband,' Bellatrix's speech lingers. She clearly is trying to get me to make a move out of emotion, but I won't allow it.

"And, threats don't bother me, little boy; we both know I could slash her throat faster than you could stupefy me!" She pulls my mother in tighter to her, causing the blade to cut a zig zag line up closer to her chin.

"They aren't threats, Bellatrix. You know exactly what we're capable of. Just let Draco's mum, your sister!, go, and we will be on our way." Potter emphasizes that my mother is Bellatrix's sister, which in all reality if he were speaking to a normal person in this type of situation his tactic would work...but he's not...and it doesn't.

She lets out another deep laugh before saying, "I'm tired of this, but I do have a message for you Potter: he knows. The Dark Lord knows and you will never find what you're searching for." Potter's face loses all color, and his mouth falls open.

"Oh, and Draco," she turns to speak to me as if it were an afterthought, "the Dark Lord also wants you to know that he will not forget or forgive your transgressions, and everyone you love will die." With that she tips her knife's blade into my mother's throat and rips it from one side to the other. The last thing I hear before I fall to my knees is my aunt's shrill laughter. There's spells flying around me, but all I'm focused on is my mum; the woman who raised me, loved me, kept me safe through the worst of times now lays dead on the floor of some ratty old building at the hands of her own sister. The anger in me forces me forward, crawling to her until I can hold her bloodied body in my arms. I don't cry, I just hold her under her back, her head hanging back farther than it should. I stare at her wound, at what little of her face I can see, and I just hold her.

Someone puts a hand on my shoulder and says some words that I don't bother to acknowledge, and then I'm whizzing through different images, no air left in my lungs.

We land in the clearing that we departed from just about an hour earlier, my mother still laying limp in my arms.

I vaguely recognize Potter's voice from somewhere off to the side of me giving orders to the others. I don't know what he's saying, and quite frankly I don't care.

My parents are dead, I have no one and nothing.

A warm hand lays itself on my shoulder, and I snap out of my trance just enough to see and hear Hermione leaning over me.

"Malfoy-erm, Draco." I lower my head slightly to let her know I'm listening. "I'm so sorry...when you're ready we can,uhm, move her to somewhere more private."

She stays with me for a little after that. Just her warm hand on my shoulder, my mother's blood on my clothes, and of course her pale and lifeless body in my arms. A couple of times I even try to move but I find that my limbs have become something reminiscent of stone; they are too heavy to maneuver.

After what seems like an eternity, however, I find it in me to lift my head and peer around at the clearing. It's empty with the exception of Hermione, myself and my mother's corpse. I do note, however, Weasel and Potter standing near one of the tents closer to the courtyard; the dark haired wizard stands with one hand rubbing his right shoulder, looking in my direction with his face set in a mixture of upset, concerned, and sympathetic. He seemed to be in the middle of a sentence but when he sees me looking at him his mouth shuts and he averts his gaze. Meanwhile, Weasel stares away; his mouth is tight and crooked, his arms are crossed and he has dirt on his nose.

"I would like to move her now."

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	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter Thirty-One**

I felt the words leave my mouth, Hermione's hand left my shoulder and a whirlwind of people came, seemingly, out of nowhere.

They picked up my mother gingerly, placed her on a makeshift stretcher, covered her with a sheet and quietly headed off to the medical tent. Someone's hands assist me to my feet and I almost fall back down from my legs being so weak.

I begin to follow the stretcher and focus solely on the sheet covered figure it carries. The rest of the world melts around me in nothing but a blur, and I almost prefer it that way.

We pass tent after faded and tattered tent, person after faceless person. When we finally reach the medical canopy it feels like I've been walking through that sea forever.

They lay her on a cot and as soon as I'm next to her, someone closes the curtain muttering a 'sorry,' while doing so.

I stand there a moment and just stare. I don't know if it's more of a hope or an expectancy of the sheet to rise up and my mother to pull it off saying something along the lines of, 'I only laid down for a little, some people are so over dramatic!'

My mouth does an instinctive half smile at the thought, and then I see it: the blood by her head. It's not a lot, but enough to remind me of the reality. She's never going to wake up from this; my mother is no longer my mother. She is nothing more than a husk with a knife wound. Her soul left with the flick of my aunt's wrist.

I feel tears stinging the corners of my eyes and do a quick look around to make sure I'm alone with my mum. When I see no one else, and am sure there will be no face poking around the cheap hanging fabric hiding the death from the rest of the unwell, I let myself sink into my emotions.

Fat, hot tears begin to fall and roll down my cheeks. I walk to my mother's side and remove the sheet from her upper half. Her eyes are glazed over and stare unblinking at the pitch of the tent. I close them as gently as possible, trying not to let my own eyes wander to her elegant, pale neck and the wicked wound that is now apart of it.

I take her hand in both of mine and find I can no longer stand, so I fall to my knees at her side. I sob so hard I feel my body shake. My heart is so broken, it feels like I may shatter.

I bury my head into her hand and continue crying like this until I run out of tears.

"Draco?" A soft voice sounds from behind me, and I vaguely register it. "Draco, I know this is not the best time- and I am so sorry about your mother-," she stutters out. By this point I know it's Hermione, but I don't lift my head; I don't allow her to see my tear stained cheeks. It's bad enough that she and the rest of the camp have seen me vulnerable.

"Draco, there's more sick and injured...and we don't have an abundance of beds-"

"And so you need my mother's corpse taken care of." I finish the sentence for her.

"Don't be so crass." Her voice takes on a bit of a bite, but immediately eases back, "We do need the beds, but we will bury your mother in the most respectful manner possible-"

"No." I cut her off again. She opens her mouth to speak but I don't allow her the opportunity, and continue on. "I will bury her; she would prefer that." I try to make it sound as though I mean not to offend, but at the same time I really don't care.

These people don't know my mother like I do. They think of her as the wife and mother of a Death Eater. I'm sure a very large percentage of them don't give a damn that she's dead, and maybe just as large of a percentage would celebrate it! No, I will give my mum the burial she deserves...or at least the best I can do in these circumstances.

Hermione nods her head and purses her lips as though she understands my thoughts.

"At least let me have someone show you to the graveyard." She insists. I nod in agreement and she exits briefly before re-emerging with a witch whose name I do not know.

She is tall and thin, and her green eyes sink well into her skull on her carmel colored face. I'm sure when she was younger, and not in the middle of fighting a war, she was very beautiful. Now, however, she just looks tired and defeated.

"Gillian will guide you there and then we will find you a tent to sleep in for the night." Hermione finishes, gives me one last sympathetic look, and then leaves.

The cemetery sits on the far edge of camp. It sits so that even from the clearing in the middle you can just make out makeshift headstones.

After I'm done magiking a Narcissa sized hole, I lift my mother off of her cot and place her on the dirt floor of it. This will be her new home-it is nothing like the old one.

Malfoy Manor, in all of its pristine and marbled glory, now a place of horrid affairs, torture, murder..death. At the end of it all, at least my mother can be at peace somewhere far away from the terrible memory her once beloved home had been.

I flick my wand and the pile of earth next to her grave lifts and falls gracefully on top of her. I take the large rock that I had transfigured into a plain cross and place it at the top of her gravesite. I kneel next to it, getting my trousers even more stained.

"I am so sorry...I am so sorry that I-" I choke,"I am so sorry I couldn't help you. I could have prevented this, and I didn't, and for that I will never forgive myself." I place my hand on her cross.

"I promise, mother, I promise that I will avenge you! Bellatrix will not get away with what she did! I will make her suffer for this. I promise."

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